Being a Rider
by artanisofavalon
Summary: Tirane is the first female of the new generation of Riders. Follow her as she trains with Oromis, establishes relationships and falls in love. Throughout her encounters she matures, and learns the true meaning of being a Rider. R and R.
1. More reading?

.Hello and welcome! This is my newest story, and also the first one I have written about Eragon, so please if I make any mistakes feel free to point them out to me. Flames, however will be used to light my barbeque pit. So, read and review and enjoy the story. Moving on to the disclaimer now:

clear throat loudly

Anything you happen to recognize from the following text is by either Christopher Paolini or Tolkien. Thankyou.

Okay,

Anything written in this font represents speech.

_Anything written in this script represents thought._

Onwards men (and women)! To the story!

Tiranë eyed the scroll with distaste.

Everyday for the past two months, Oromis had shovelled information into her aching head, and she was sick of it. From books about the history of Alagaësia to scrolls explaining the properties of different poisons, the elf had stocked her arms full of books and thoroughly lectured her on the importance of literature and an extensive intellect quality. Although she agreed with Oromis, Tiranë really couldn't comprehend how the _lay of Umhodan_ would help her defeat Galbatorix. She wisely kept her mouth closed on the subject though, for she had no desire to anger the elf. Despite the Elves being a generally peaceful and good-natured race, they had a wrath unlike any other; and gods above help any provoke a member of the fair folk.

Fair folk.

That reminded her of when she had first arrived in Ellesméra, and of how conscious she had been about her plainness in comparison to the Elves' pale loveliness. Of course, she knew she was no beauty even when not compared with the Elves, with her plain dark brown hair and somewhat strange gold-green eyes, but it was nice to think that you had something special about your physical attributes. With the Elves this was nigh to impossible. Eragon, her friend and fellow Rider, had often teased her about how unfeminine she was. Though she never showed it outwardly, the fact that she would never be anything more than just a friend to a man was disheartening.

Setting aside her wayward thoughts, for they were irrelevant at the moment, and her studies were most definitely not, she focused on the elegant writing which adorned the thin paper of the scroll. It explained the necessary methods needed to properly care for a dragon's scales, teeth and claws. There were pictures of different tools which each had a specific use and purpose, and they ranged from claw files to a strange looking instrument used to pick out any sharp objects which might happen to find themselves embedded into a dragon's limbs.

A small smile formed on her lips as she thought of her dragon. They had only been Rider and dragon for a few months, but their bond was stronger than if they had known each other a hundred years.

A dull thudding sound interrupted her thoughts, and she felt a presence brush against her mind.

"_So, my young Rider, having fun swimming among the scrolls,"_ an amused, clearly male voice echoed in her mind.

"_Ha, ha. How funny. It's not as if I want to be here studying all morning, Turgon_," she replied dryly; though not without a smirk.

"_Well, I sympathise with you. But we can always argue later, youngling. Come, I'll meet you outside." _

"_Fine, and do not call me youngling!" _

Turgon's loud chuckling rumbled through her mind as she set down the offending scroll and walked outside to greet the dragons.

Eragon untied the leather strap securing his leg and jumped off Saphira's large blue back. They had spent the morning with Glaedr and Turgon, flying through the mountains and he was exhausted; not to mention sore.

While rubbing tender, red hands together, he heard Saphira's teasing voice in his mind. _"You know as well as I do that a few bruises are preferable to spending the entire morning cooped up inside skimming through scrolls." _

"_I don't mean to sound ungrateful to Oromis for all he has done…but I agree with you_," he replied, grinning

Patting Saphira's shoulder, he greeted Oromis, thanked Glaedr, then walked over to where Tiranë was sitting at the roots of a large pine tree.

"Hello," he said, seating himself down next to her on the large buttress.

"Hello Eragon. How was your lesson? I'll wager it was a thousand more times exciting than battling Oromis' books."

She rolled her eyes and he chuckled.

"It was alright, I guess. It was pretty boring, to be honest," Eragon explained, trying to act sincere.

Tiranë playfully punched his arm. "You don't have to lie just to make me feel better, you know."

"Don't I," he replied, grinning.

"No. I happen to be a mature and responsible person, Eragon Shadeslayer, unlike yourself."

Eragon coughed into his fist and dodged a punch aimed for his nose.

"Alright, alright, sorry," Eragon apologized.

They talked for a few a short while longer, and Tiranë then excused herself to find Turgon.

She spotted him next to Saphira, and jogged over to where the two dragons were resting.

Tiranë slowed to a stop as she reached the shady area where they were resting, and greeted the two dragons, patting each of their scales in turn.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Saphira licked her on the cheek and before walking off to find Eragon.

Tiranë noticed how Turgon's eyes followed Saphira as she moved away and was amused.

"_So…you like her, do you?"_ She taunted the dark Indigo dragon.

"_I beg your pardon? I most certainly do not "like" her,"_ was the too casual reply.

"_Right…."_

"_I would not be talking if I were you, youngling. I saw the way you were eyeing a certain young Rider."_

"_What in Alagaësia are you talking about! And do not call me youngling!"_

"_Oh, nothing. Nothing at all…**hatchling**."_

Before she had a chance to retaliate, Turgon said,_ "I'll see you at home,"_ and heaved his gigantic bulk off of the ground and into the air.

Shaking her head, she stood up, bade everyone farewell and headed back to her tree house.

Well, that's all for the now, but I promise to post the next chapter before too long. Now, if some of you are wondering, yes Tiranë (or Tirana) is the capital of Albania. I chose it because for some unfathomable reason I had always thought it would be a good Elven name. If you disagree, then please tell me for I am anxiously awaiting your opinions. And yes, I admit, Turgon is one of J.R.R Tolkien's characters from his excellent works. But I best be off now, maths homework and chores won't do themselves! Toodle-doo!

Read and Review.

P.S: I apologise if anyone was out of character, and yes Oromis, Glaedr, Arya, Islanzadi and anyone else mentioned in the book will have a larger part in the story as it progresses.

Artanis


	2. The hated dress

Second chapter! Yay! See I told you I wouldn't keep you waiting forever! Does a little jig. Alright, I think its time to move on to the disclaimer. Composes self and struts onto the stage.

Anything you do recognize in this story is the work of either Christopher Paolini or J.R.R

Tolkien.

And (just so there is no confusion):

"Speech"

"Thought"

"We ride North! I mean…on with the story…he he…

With an exasperated sigh, Tiranë opened the door to her tree house and stepped inside the spacious room. She had just returned from her lesson and was exhausted. Since Turgon had left for home without her, she had had to ride back to the city on a horse; which was not exactly what you would call her cup of tea. She had just arrived from the stables and smelled as though she hadn't bathed in a month.

Rubbing her bruised backside with her aching hands, she walked into her room to find Turgon reclining comfortably in his cushioned bed/pit, an odd sparkle in his eyes.

"_Finally. I thought you would never arrive. Honestly Tiranë it is not good manners to keep someone waiting,"_ he teased .

"_If you had been kind enough to give me a ride you woudn't have had to wait,"_ she snapped, her aching backside and throbbing head causing her to become thoroughly annoyed.

"_Well, somebody's grumpy, aren't they?"_

"_Leave me alone."_

"_Don't be such a shrew."_

Tiranë sighed, and drew a hand through her straight hair_. "Look, I'm sorry about snapping at you, it's just that all these lessons are giving me a headache_."

"_Apology accepted, and I'm sorry about leaving you behind. You must have one memorable pain in your backside right now. And stop all this incessant complaining, its unbecoming_," Turgon recited the last sentence in a dry tone.

She smiled slightly.

"_As much as I appreciate your concern, I think I'll have a bath. I smell like a horse_!

"_Do as you wish, I 'm going to sleep, and I would thank you to keep the noise level down while I do so_."

Rolling her eyes, she left the room and walked over an oak wardrobe at the far side of her own chamber, opened its wooden doors and began searching for a clean pair of clothes to wear after she had bathed. She groaned in dismay when she saw that the only items of clothing behind the carved doors were undergarments and a pale lavender gown.

Tiranë despised gowns. She had always despised them and always would. She couldn't even remember the last time she had worn one of the ridiculous things. Which was probably why she had never fit in with the other girls of her village. While they would have sat and played with dolls, Tiranë would have accompanied her father when he went fishing, or sparred with her elder brother.

She was conscious of a painful stab of sorrow when she thought of her family. They had been killed in a village raid two years before and Tiranë still mourned for them.

Setting aside her sorrow, though not before a few tears had escaped her eyes, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and turned her attention to the task at hand. The lavender gown. Since it was the only item of clean clothing she had, she supposed that she would have to wear it. It was either that or go naked.

Growling in a very unladylike manner, she snatched the gown and a thin chemise out of the wardrobe, picked up a towel and a bar of soap, and sauntered off to the bathroom.

She opened the door to the bathing room and walked inside. Shutting it, she sat on a small stool and took off her boots. Her stool being close to the large tub, she reached over to the side and opened a small compartment containing two small nozzles, twisted them, and waited for the water to start filling the tub.

She discarded herself of the rest of her clothing, and dipped her finger into the bath water to test its temperature. When she was satisfied it would not burn off her skin if she stepped into it, she carefully slid into the tub, releasing a blissful sigh when the warm water covered her tired body.

After soaking in the water for a few minutes, she reached for the bar of soap and started to lather her skin with it. Soaping her arms and her chest, Tiranë then dipped her head under the water to wet her hair. When long tendrils of her dark her started to skim the surface of the water, she lifted her head and rubbed the bar of soap against her scalp.

After cleaning her hair as best she could, Tiranë tended to the rest of her body and climbed out of the water, pulled out the plug keeping the water in the tub, and wrapped herself in the fluffy yellow towel which the elves had given to her. She picked up her gown and chemise and walked over to the small row baskets which resided under a large wall mirror and held a variety of brushes and combs.

Picking up a white ivory comb, a gift from Queen Islanzadí, she drew it through her waist length hair before drying it with a one of the smaller towels which were draped neatly over a hand rail. Afterwards, she briefly contemplated braiding it, but decided that it would dry quicker if it was exposed to the air.

Tiranë unwrapped herself from the towel and thoroughly dried herself before eyeing the gown as though it would suddenly spring to life and attack her. She took a hesitant step to where it was lying on a bench and even more hesitantly reached for the chemise.

It was a lovely thing, light and airy, and embroidered with a complex design of flowers and vines. Despite being so unfeminine, she had to admit that it was pleasing to the eye.

She lifted her arms, and pulled it over her head before rearranging it over her chest and stomach. It reached up to just past her knees and settled nicely over her breasts and hips.

The chemise's material was so fine it felt like water when she touched it, and so light she could have forgotten she was wearing it at all.

She looked at herself in the mirror while turning this way and that, admiring the way the hem swished around her lower legs. It seemed very amusing to her how she had gone from abhorring dresses to admiring them in the span of one hour and she giggled quietly to herself.

Feeling a little less peeved at the prospect of acting like a female for a day, she lifted the gown in her hands and rubbed the fabric through her fingers. It was cool and soft, and was sure to make her feel like a princess when she wore it, but she was still a little self conscious about actually trying it on.

After about ten minutes of staring at the dress, trying to decide whether or not to wear it, she finally chastised herself for being a fool and quickly donned the dress before she could change her mind. Again.

Tiranë smoothed down the wrinkles at the front of her gown and went to examine herself in front of the mirror. When she saw her reflection, she was startled by how different from her usual self she looked. The curved neckline of the gown was lower than what she was used to, but not so low as to be immodest. The flowing pale purple blue skirt fell down to her ankles and rustled pleasantly when she moved. The loose sleeves were bell shaped and allowed room for movement. Overall it was lovely.

After a thorough perusal of herself in the mirror, she felt decent enough to go for an evening stroll. Since Turgon was most probably still asleep and she had three days to finish reading the scrolls Oromis had set her, she reasoned that a walk through the woods shouldn't hurt.

Walking out of the bathing room as quietly as she could, for she didn't want to awaken Turgon, who she knew was as tired as she was, even though he didn't show it, Tiranë quickly made her way to the door and stepped outside, welcoming the light breeze that rustled the leaves and played with her hair.

Tracing her hand along the natural patterns the Elves sang out of the trees, she descended down the winding staircase and onto the forest floor, ready to explore the many wonders Ellesméra had to offer.

Well, that's all for now folks. I know it was uneventful, but don't worry, the action will start soon enough. If you have any suggestions concerning the story, review and tell me. Thanks,

Artanisofavalon


	3. The Queen

Bonjour! Namaste! Mae Govannen! It is I! Ihave returned! And with a new chapter, too!

Okay, that's all the enthusiasm I can spare today. Alright, I have posted the third chapter of "Being a Rider". (Please, if you can think of a better title, inform me immediately, I'm desperate.)

Moving on to the disclaimer now.

Disclaimer: Nothing from the following text belongs to me. It is either the property of Christopher Paolini , J.R.R Tolkien, or the Albanians.

Onward I say!

P.S Read and Review. Please.

The heady scent of flowers invaded Tiranë's senses as she stepped lightly onto the forest floor.

Turning slowly in a full circle, she surveyed her surroundings with wonder.

The forest of Du Weldenvarden never ceased to render her awestruck; it was so beautiful it made one feel like they were living a dream. Patches of exotic flowers every colour of the rainbow littered the floor, and long ropes of flowering Liani vine fell gracefully from the branches of the tall trees. The squeaks and twitters of animals and birds could be heard clearly among the peaceful quiet of the woods, and, if you were fortunate, you could see mother bear softly nose her cub, or a deer stop to drink from a nearby stream.

It was among this beauty, that Tiranë found herself wondering, stopping every so often to stroke the leaves of a flower, or to swat gently at a small branch.

"_This place is extraordinary,"_ she thought to herself, while stopping to smell a yellow rose,

closing her eyes at its light fragrance.

Lifting herself from her kneeling position, she continued on, greeting the Elves she encountered politely.

She wandered among the trees aimlessly for hours, until she came to where a curtain of vines covered the entrance to a small alcove, deeper in the woods than she had ever been before. She stopped as she reached it, and after a few moments of wondering whether or not to step inside, her curiousity got the better of her, and she pushed aside the waterfall of vines and stepped quietly through the entrance. And found Queen Islanzadí sitting on a small ivory bench.

The Queen turned her eyes to the young dragon rider as she entered, and Tiranë silently cursed herself for her curious nature.

A few uncomfortable moments passed, and Tiranë suppressed the need to squirm under Islanzadí's gaze on her. However,it was the Queen who put an end to the discomfort by lifting her first two fingers to her lips and saying:

"Atra esterni ono thelduin."

Tiranë copied the gesture, and recited the next sentence of the greeting.

"Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr."

"Un du evarinya ono varda." The Queen finished.

"So you have located my solace from the demands of queenship, Rider." There was a smile in her voice; quite the opposite of what Tiranë expected when she intruded upon the Elven Queen.

"I apologise, my Lady, it was not my intention to-" Islanzadí cut her off with a small wave of her hand.

"Worry not, Tiranë, I am not vexed in the least. I would rather enjoy another's company. at this moment. If you would care to join me?" The Queen asked her whilst indicating to the empty spot on the bench next to her.

"Of course, my Lady, if that is your wish."

Tiranë bowed her head to Islanzadí and lowered herself on to the bench as gracefully as she could, rearranging the fabric of her skirt while trying to avoid the Queen's dark eyes.

" Oromis informs me that your studies are going well, Rider, I am pleased to hear such news. Are you enjoying your stay in Ellesméra?

"My studies are going well enough, your majesty, although I would not object to a reduction in the amount of scrolls he assigns me to study," she replied as politely as she could, although she could not keep the irritated tone from her voice.

The sound of ringing bells filled the air as the Queen laughed.

"And as for my stay here, Lady, I am loving it. I cannot find the words to describe how beautiful Ellesméra is, and I never dreamed that I would witness such wonder as I have encountered during my stay here."

That answer seemed to please Islanzadí,for a small smile formed on her lips.

"It gladdens me to hear that you find peace here in Ellesméra ,young Rider. It is rare among such hard times," there was a note of sadness in her clear voice as she spoke; the smile had melted off her face.

"Yes, it is."

"How fares your dragon?"

"He is also well, and loving Ellesméra as much as I am."

"It is good to hear that our hospitality is not lacking."

"Of course not, my Lady, you have been most gracious to us and we will be forever grateful."

The Queen looked pleased, but said nothing in answer.

Islanzadí made a few more polite inquiries, all of which Tiranë answered as formally as she could.

Silence reigned for a few moments, and Tiranë was brought out of her reverie by Islanzadí lifting herself off the bench with the grace of a cat.

Looking every inch the Queen she was in her berry red dress and swan-feather cape, Islanzadí held out a milk white hand to Tiranë, who accepted it, and walked out of the alcove with her.

"I thank you for your company, Rider, It has been a pleasure to speak with you."

"The pleasure was all mine, Lady."

Tiranë curtseyed to her, and after offering a polite farewell, began to thread her way closer to the city.

Turgon awoke slowly.

Cracking open his large indigo eyes, he split his jaws in a content yawn.

The tree house was incredibly quiet, which meant that Tiranë was most likely out exploring the city. With affection, he thought of his Rider, and of how much she had matured and experienced in the last nine months.

Despite their constant bickering, he knew that she would do anything to protect him; and he would do the same, without hesitation. If it were up to him, he would fly her far, far away from all that fate was piling atop her young shoulders, and not let her out of his sight for even a fraction of a second.

She had an inconvenient tendency to get herself into trouble all to easily, as she proved many a time during their journey throughout Alagaësia.

Turgon, his thought still on his Rider, climber out of his bed and stretched his neck and wings, before walking over to the tear shaped portal which was cut out of the wall, and launched himself into the air.

If he knew, Tiranë, which he did, she would not be back for a long time.

It would not hurt to do a little exploring of his own.

After her unexpected encounter with Queen Islanzadí, Tirane had spent her time sitting on the grassy banks of a small stream, watching it's sparkling waters as they merrily flowed around the trees and wound their way through the forest.

Quiet and secluded, it was the perfect place to sit and think without being interrupted. Drawing in a contented breath of the clean forest air, she leaned back in the grass and watched the trees above her sway with the fresh breeze, her dark hair splayed out behind her. Tiranë closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the soft ground.

Since the grass was fairly dry, Tiranë did not worry about her dress becoming soiled or stained.

She rarely received free time, and when she did, Tiranë made use of it. She decided that if a clean pair of leggings and a tunic were delivered to her home later, she would visit the training area and practice her swordplay.

Whilst being engrossed in her thoughts, she failed to notice a shadow fall across the area she occupied and the figure of a dark haired Elf loom above her.

Well, that's it for now. And be patient people, it'll get more interesting, just wait for the next few chapters. Okay, I know that is a ridiculous excuse of a cliff-hanger, but bear with me. I can promise two things though, yes the chapters will become longer, hopefully, and yes, Eragon, Saphira, Arya, Oromis and other characters from the story will have a larger part in the story as it progresses. Remember it is only the third chapter. And last, but certainly not least, read, review ,and make suggestionsabout what YOU would like to be in the story. You're the ones reading,I'm just the fool who is writing it. And don't be afraid I don't bite.

Okay, I'm late for my 3:30 appointment with psychiatrist.

Adios amigos!

Artanisofavalon


	4. Author's Note

Author's Note: Okay, guys, I have a dilemma. I have been playing around with the idea that Tirane might fall for an elf. Three have come to mind and I would appreciate it if you guys would vote for which pairing you would like best. If, however, you would be interested in an EragonOC, there is that option available aswell.

Okay, tell me if you would prefer:

A. Tirane and Vanir.

B. Tirane and Nari.

C. Tirane and Lifaen.

D. Tirane and Eragon.

Just review and tell me which one you find to be the most appealing,

Thanks!

Artanisofavalon.


	5. Meeting Indis

A new chapter! Hurrah! Read and Review! Yes, do!

(any rhyming was unintentional)

Disclaimer:  
I own zilch.

Enjoy!

As Tiranë continued to mull through her thoughts, oblivious to the fact that another being was hovering above her, she suddenly felt a presence near her, and snapped open her eyes.

The Elf maiden in front of her gave a startled gasp, and shot up from where she was crouching next to Tiranë.

A little shocked at awakening to find an Elf mere inches from her face, Tiranë stood up and made to go and say something to the maiden, but before she could open her mouth to say, "Can I-"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you! Pease forgive me! It's just that I saw you lying there and I thought you might be in trouble, and, oh, please, I really didn't mean to annoy you!" the Elf maiden cried out in a distressed voice so quickly that Tiranë could hardly make out what she was saying.

"It's quite al-,"

"Oh, me and my curiousity! Mother always said it would get me into trouble!" she said, starting to pace and make hand gestures while she continued to babble her apology.

"It's fi-"

"I am so sorry!"

She continued to jabber on, until, finally, Tiranë lost her patience and pressed her palm firmly against the She-Elf's hysterical mouth, causing her to freeze and look at Tiranë with wide blue eyes.

"That's quite enough. Now if you would let me finish speaking, I could tell you that it's alright, and that I am not angry in the least. Although I am touched by your concern for my welfare, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't stand quite so close the next time you wish to make sure I am alright," Tiranë said in an amused tone, trying to humour her.

There was no response from the Elf, except the further widening of her eyes.

"Now, do you promise to calm down if I remove my hand?" she asked the She-Elf.

At the little jerking movements of the Elf's head, Tiranë removed her palm and took a step back from the now quiet She-Elf.

There were a few moments silence between them, and Tiranë absently tapped her foot while the Elf opened and closed her mouth like a fish, clearly trying to find something to say.

Suddenly, she stuck out her hand, and introduced herself.

"I'm Indis," she said with a small smile. "And I'm sorry about that little scene earlier. I have a tendency to…overreact," Indis told her, blushing.

Tiranë laughed. "It's okay, it was rather funny, to be honest. Anyway, I'm Tiranë," she replied, accepting the offered hand and shaking it.

"Oh, you're one of the Riders!"

Tiranë nodded, "Yeah."

"I'm honoured to meet you," Indis placed her first two fingers to her lips.

Tiranë copied the gesture. "And I am honoured to meet you."

Indis coloured with pleasure.

There were a moments of silence, before Indis finally summoned up her courage to ask the Rider to accompany her for a afternoon walk, in hope that they might become friends.

"So…er…would you like to join me for a stroll? I'd understand if you didn't, after that episode I wouldn't either. Really, it's alright if you refuse, I wouldn't min-," Indis saw the expression on Tiranë's face and cut herself off.

"I'm doing it again aren't I?"

Tiranë nodded.

"Sorry." Indis flushed again.

"Don't be. And I would love to join you for a walk. Perhaps you could show me some of the city?

I haven't seen too much of it."

"Of course! Where would you like to go first? There's the bath house, the gardens, Tialdarí hall, the training areas, the archery range, our public eating areas, the lake and many, many other places that we could visit," Indis recited, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Um…what about the lake? I would like to see it…if you don't mind?"

"Why, of course not! I was hoping you'd say the lake. It's beautiful, but I won't say any more. You will just have to see for yourself. Now come, Tiranë, Ellesmera awaits," Indis merrily linked her arm through Tiranë's and pulled her through the forest.

X

"And this is the lake," Indis told Tiranë, indicating the area with a sweep of her forearm.

"It's beautiful," Tiranë said quietly, drinking in the sight before her with her green eyes.

"It most certainly is," the dark haired She-Elf agreed with her.

The afternoon sun was shining on the wide expanse lake ,making it seem as though it was one glowing nimbus of light in the middle of the forest. Flowers and shrubs were everywhere you looked, on the ground, on the boulders that formed the waterfall at the far side of the lake. A ring of trees surrounded the whole area, and there was a sweet smell in the air, as though it had just rained.

Tiranë sighed with pleasure as she took in the sight.

The area was mostly empty, except for an Elven couple who sat on one of the boulders in the shallow water of the lake, murmuring softly to one another and staring into each other's eyes.

Tiranë watched as the male pushed himself off the bolder and walked away from the silver haired maiden, before returning with a blood red rose which he handed to her with a caress to the cheek.

"Oh, how I wish I had someone to give me roses," Indis' clear voice said from behind her.

Tiranë sighed wistfully before averting her eyes from the Elven couple as they embraced.

"Me too."

Indis gave a small laugh, "You have more chance at romance than I do! Now, let us stop fantasizing about handsome males and flower-receiving! We are here to enjoy ourselves, and enjoy ourselves we shall! Come, the water is perfect," Indis told her, before kicking off her slippers.

Since she was bare foot, Tiranë simply lifted her skirts, and followed Indis into the cool water.

"So…how do you find our fair city," Indis asked her, burying her toes in the dirt at the bottom of the lake.

"Completely and utterly beautiful. I have never seen anywhere like it," She told Indis truthfully.

"I am glad that you like it," she paused, looking uncertain, then said, "Perhaps…if you want…we could become…friends?"

Tiranë smiled brightly. "I would really like that Indis. I would be honoured to be your friend."

"Really? You really want to be my friend?"

"Indis, if I didn't want to be your friend I wouldn't have come here with you."

Indis' pretty face split into a toothy grin and she dropped her skirts to enfold Tiranë in a tight hug, which she returned with a smile.

"You have made me so happy usually people find me too irritating to befriend,as you, unfortunately, saw earlier," Indis said, after pulling out of the hug.

"You are not irritating,Indis, you're…unique. That is what makes you special."

The two friends smiled happily at each other, before Indis looked down, and muttered,

"Whoops."

Tiranë laughed when she realized that the hug had caused them to let fall their skirts, which were

now soaked through with water and sticking to their legs.Indis joined her, giggling her amusement.

"Well, I don't know about you, but my legs are cold," Tiranë said, once their laughter had ceased.

"I agree," Indis concurred, smiling.

They quickly waded through the water, wringing their skirts once they had reached the shore.

"One day, when we have time, I'll take you to meet Turgon," Tiranë offered as she squeezed the water from the fabric of her lavender gown.

"Is he your dragon?"

Tiranë nodded her head.

"Oh, I would like that. I have only ever seen a dragon from afar, and the way their scales glisten is beautiful."

"Yes, it is."

When they had removed most of the excess water from their gowns, and Indis had slipped on her shoes, the two maidens took their leave of the lake, and began making their way through the forest to the city.

X

At around ten minutes into their return trek to Ellesméra, when they had entered a small clearing, a male voice behind them said,

"I have been looking for you, Indis."

Tiranë and Indis both spun around to face whoever it was that had spoken.

Indis exhaled in relief when she realized who it was.

" Vanir, you startled me! Do not ever do that again! I- Wait…why were you looking for me?"

"To tell you that Alanis' birthday celebration is at the glade tonight," The tall Elf replied.

"That's tonight? I completely forgot! Thank you for reminding me, cousin or I would have humiliated myself!"

"How…typical of you, cousin," Vanir replied, the amused glimmer in his eyes belying the mocking expression on his face.

"Ha ha. Hilarious."

Tiranë shifted uncomfortably as the two cousins jested, which reminded Indis that she had not yet introduced them to each other.

"Oh, Vanir, let me introduce to my friend Tiranë," Indis said, an odd glint in her eye.

"The Rider," Vanir asked, lifting a dark wing like brow.

"Yes," Tiranë replied.

Vanir touched his first two fingers to his lips, and bowed his head.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Tiranë said politely, mirroring the respectful gesture. 

"As am I," Vanir replied, running his eyes over the length of her body, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

Tirane could feel herself blush beet red. There was something about the Elf's voice and eyes which caused an appalling streak of heat to shoot down into the pit of her stomach and threaten to burn her insides to ashes.

Which Indis must have noticed, for she intervened and asked,

"Tiranë, why don't you come to the celebration? I'm sure my family like to meet both you and Turgon."

"Oh, Indis, that's very kind of you, but I do not have anything to wear, and I don't want to be a

burden…" Tirane let the comment hang, hoping for Indis to receive the message.

"You would not be a burden." Something in Vanir's voice told Tiranë that she amused him, but the reason as to why was unclear to her.

"He's right. You wouldn't. And do not worry about clothing. We can visit the seamstresses when we reach the city, they're bound the have something suitable for a celebration."

"Well….Oh, alright. I'll be there," Tiranë finally agreed.

"Good! We pay Lína a visit when we arrive in Ellesmëra, see if she can find you a dress. This is going to be fun," the playful glitter was back in Indis deep blue eyes eyes.

"Marvellous. I will see you both tonight.Now, If you excuse me, I must leave," said Vanir.

Bowing his head, the Elf left, but not before a last stare into Tiranë's green eyes.

She watched him as he disappeared through the trees, remembering the way his eyes lingered over her body as he assessed her with that long calculating look. Tiranë blushed deeply. Again.

"I think he's smitten with you," Indis' voice pierced through her thoughts.

"Pardon? He's only just met me," Tiranë exclaimed, trying to laugh it off.

And failing.

Indis clearly believed otherwise, but did not comment on the matter any further.

Instead she said, "We must find you a dress, something…summery and flowing. Yes… something, green, perhaps?"

"Indis, it's not that important. I could go in the dress I'm wearing now."

"Nonsense! Your dress is for wearing is fit for a picnic, not a birthday party. And the celebration is not until after sunset, which means we have plenty of time to see the seamstress. I'm sure Lína would be able to find you something appropriate."

"Who is Lína?"

"She's one of the best seamstresses in Ellésmera, Du Weldenvarden aswell, most likely.

She is a close friend to my family, and she will probably not mind if we pop in at such short notice."

"Oh."

Despite Indis' jittery excitement, Tiranë was feeling physically ill. She had never adored feasts or

Celebrations, and the thought of being among all those strangers made her feel literally sick.

Indis must have sensed her nervousness, for she laid a comforting hand on Tiranë's shoulder and smiled in a friendly manner at her.

"Try not to worry so much, Anë, It is only a party. It's a time for fun, not fear. I am sure you'll be laughing at the way you are acting now later tonight. Trust me, you'll enjoy your self immensely."

Tiranë smiled at the nickname, and admitted to herself that despite Indis being a little childish at times, the Elf did have wisdom to share.

"I suppose you are right. And let me tell you something, Indis, I might have only known you a short while, but I've a feeling you and I are going to be great friends," Tiranë told her sincerely.

The She-Elf rewarded her with one of her trademark sunny grins and said," That was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. And I have a feeling we're going to be firm friends aswell."

Indis, still grinning happily, grabbed her hand and lead her through the trees and bushes, following the invisible path to center of the city. And the seamstresses workshop.

The nervous feeling about the party was still there, however, as was her reluctance to come across Indis cousin a second time.

Well, that's it for now. Oh, ALLRIGHT! I admit it! The name Indis is from Tolkien aswell!

That's how cheap I am! Can't even form my own names! Anyway, do review and tell me what you think, it really does make my day. And don't worry, the action will be featuring in the next chapter.

Also, if you do not like the TiranëVanir pairing, tell me and I will change it. That's if a large amount of people let it be known to me.

I really must be going now.

Ta-ta!  
artanisofavalon.


	6. The celebration part one

A new chapter, Yay! Enjoy people! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own zip.

Let us begin the story.

Tiranë sighed agitatedly as the seamstress expertly recorded her measurements.

She and Indis had arrived at Ellesméra a long while before, and had been spending the duration of the while in the seamstresses workshop as she bustled back and forth her arms filled to the brim with fabrics and unfinished clothing.

Lína, as the seamstress was called, was a tall clear eyed She-Elf, who had received them into her shop with open arms and a horrified gasp at the state of their gowns.

As a mother would her children, the seamstress had ushered them into her dressing room and set about fussing about their clothes, and forcibly removing their gowns, which she disapprovingly clucked her tongue at, before dropping them into a laundry basket.

Her silver hair swishing around her shoulders as she hurriedly moved around the small room, Lína

had rapidly searched through one of the many clothes racks before pulling out a midnight blue gown with a triumphant "A-ha!".

The gown was now hanging lightly over Indis' shapely limbs, as she smiled at her friend's attitude towards being fitted. Tiranë was standing as stiff as a tree trunk, and was clearly extremely un-comfortable at having the tape measure wrapped around her thighs and chest.

After Lína had completed her ministrations, much to Tiranë's relief, she asked her with a swish of her arm, "Which gown would you like? I have quite a large selection for you to choose from. Feel free to take your pick."

Tiranë looked about the room, surveying the selection of gowns carefully draped across numerous racks and tables." I was thinking, perhaps, something yellow?"

Lína shook her head, a pondering look flitting over her elegant features, "Yellow is a lovely colour, but, considering your hair and eye colour, I believe red would suit you better."

Just as Tiranë opened her mouth to comment, Lína motioned with one slim finger, and said, "I have just the dress. Please excuse me for a moment." With that said, she gracefully glided across the room and disappeared into one of the adjoining chambers.

With a sigh, Tiranë plopped down onto one of the carved stools, and was followed by Indis, who lowered herself onto a small bench next to her friend.

"That's a lovely dress your wearing, by the way Indis," she complimented Indis, after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, thankyou. I'm sure whatever Lína has in mind for you will be just a lovely, perhaps even more

so. She is excellent at what she does."

"So I see," Tiranë replied, indicating the clothing around the room.

At that precise moment. Lína swept back into the room, a bundle of crimson silk draped over one arm and moved to stand in front of them.

"Lovely, is it not?" she asked the two maidens, shaking out the gown and holding it up for them to examine.

"Beautiful," murmured Indis, standing and stroking the silk with gentle fingers.

"It is," agreed Tiranë, also removing herself from the stool.

"It is one of the finest I have to offer, and it is my gift to you, Shur'tugal," said Lína, bowing her head, first two fingers on her lips.

"I thank you kindly, Lína, I will treasure it," replied Tirane, honouring the elf by imitating the gesture.

"I certainly hope so. Now, let us see you wearing it, I do not know about you, Indis,

I am most anxious to see how it fits you."

"Yes, Anë, do try it on," urged Indis.

Nodding her head in agreement, she accepted the gown from where it hung over Lína's extended arm and walked behind the changing screen to slip it on.

"Well here goes nothing." Tiranë thought to herself as she grimaced at the thought of all those Elves seeing her wear the dress later that evening. Although the fact that Turgon would be there alongside her comforted Tiranë, she could not help the butterflies who were seemingly at war with each other from causing her to feel nauseous.

A few moments after she had finished removing her lavender dress, she felt Turgon's presence enter her mind.

"Are you alright, Tiranë? It seems as though there is something dancing in you stomach."

"Hello to you too. And I am fine, just nervous about tonight."

"What is happening tonight?" asked Turgon curiously.

"You and I, my friend, have been invited to a birthday celebration, which is taking place in a forest glade later tonight."

"A birthday celebration?" he echoed.

"A birthday celebration. And that is the reason as to why right now, I am having to try out the dress in which I am going to attend said celebration," she informed him.

"The lavender one you were wearing earlier looked lovely by the way. Very feminine."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it…. Where is this forest glade?"

"I…don't know."

"How convenient."

Tiranë paused, ignoring the retort and asked, "Why don't you meet me at our tree house, and I'll ask Indis to lead us there?"

"Marvellous…. Who is Indis?"

"A friend. I met her today. She's very excited about meeting you."

"I too shall be wanting to make her acquaintance."

"You will, soon. But I have to try this dress on now, unless I wish to attend the gathering unclothed."

Turgon's laughter was resounding in her mind.

"Then I shall see you later. I will be in the tree house when you arrive."

"Alright. Until later, then."

"Until later," Turgon said, before breaking their mental contact.

Indis' voice broke through her thoughts. "Are you ready Tiranë?"

"Uh…. almost," she replied, hastily searching for the fastenings of the dress.

Undoing the laces at the back, she swiftly drew it over her head, and reached behind her to tie the laces up again.

Exhaling, she looked herself in the mirror, and smoothed out the creases in the skirt, before adjusting the sleeves and neckline to a more comfortable position, not paying too much attention to the dress itself.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she straightened her back and shoulders and focused on her image in the mirror.

And felt her shoulders slump.

The dress was stunning. Far too stunning for her. It deserved someone with the grace and poise of Arya to wear it, and Tiranë wondered whether Lína had made a mistake when she had picked it out.

The dark, blood red skirt fell to the floor in a waterfall of crimson silk, glittering in the lantern light. It's soft bell sleeves were long enough to conceal her hands, and were like water on her skin.

Although not too revealingly, the oval neckline hinted at her breasts, permitting the viewer a glimpse at her ample chest. It fitted snugly against her body and seemed as weightless as a feather.

All in all, it felt completely foreign to Tiranë, even more so than the lavender gown.

Chewing her lip self-consciously, Tiranë stepped out from behind the screen, eyes downcast.

"Oh, Tiranë! You look lovely," Indis exclaimed when she caught sight of her.

"I agree, it suits you very well, Tiranë. Twirl for us so we can see how the rest of it fits," Lína bade her, a satisfied expression on her beautiful face.

Flushing with pleasure, Tiranë held out her arms and spun around slowly in a circle, giving the two Elves a full view of the dress from all angles.

"Perfect," said Indis.

"Indeed," was Lína's reply.

Tiranë lowered her arms and went to stand next to Indis, ready to thank the seamstress for all the trouble she put herself through in order to find her a gown.

"Thank you so much, Lína. I appreciate the effort you went through to find us our dresses, and we are grateful," Tiranë told the seamstress, while Indis nodded in agreement.

"Yes, we are very grateful. But we must be leaving now, to prepare for later tonight. Thank you, Lína," added Indis.

"It is quite alright, I did not mind at all. I hope you have an enjoyable time tonight, and I regret that I cannot be present."

Indis and Tiranë bade Lína farewell, and walked out of the small cottage which housed the finest clothes in Ellesméra.

"Gods above be praised! The outside!" Tiranë jested to Indis, exaggeration evident in her voice and her arms held up towards the sky.

Indis laughed. "I concur. So…? Where to now?"

"Well…I told Turgon that we would meet him at the tree house once we had finished, and he agreed to wait for us, so why do we not go to my quarters? I have some perfumes and lotions that the Queen gave to me as a gift, if you would like to use them," Tiranë answered the question.

"Sounds like a plan. But I have some things I need to fetch from my house, so why don't I come to your rooms after I have found what I need? Where do you live?" Indis inquired.

"On the top floor of the central oak. I live in the house that has a carved picture of Ilírea on the front door."

"Okay, I will be there in half an hour. Tell Turgon that I am most excited to meet him."

Tiranë smiled." I already did. We spoke mentally as I was changing, and he informed me that he wishes to see you aswell."

"Wonderful! I was wondering what was taking you so long to dress."

Tiranë laughed.

"Now you know. Let us stop wasting time, I will expect you in half an hour. Remember, the house with the Ilírea depiction on the door."

"I will. See you soon," said Indis, kissing her on the cheek.

"Okay," Tiranë returned the kiss.

Pulling away, Indis cheerily waved before lightly walking in the opposite direction to her home.

Tiranë watched her walk away, wondering how she managed to seem so small and sweet despite her height, before breaking into a fast-paced walk to her house.

Gently pushing open the front door, Indis stepped into her tidy home and closed the door behind her. Removing her shoes, she lightly held them in her hands, and walked into her bedroom, where she placed her slippers into the small cabinet where they belonged and took out a pair which matched the shade of her dress.

Seating herself onto the soft mattress of the bed, Indis slid her feet into the dainty embroidered slippers, and paused to admire the tiny leaf designs that had been carefully sewn into the blue fabric with grey thread.

Completing her analysis of the dark blue shoes, Indis lifted herself off the bed and walked over to her dressing table, which was occupied by an elegant mother-of-pearl hair comb, which had been a gift from her grandmother, three tinted glass bottles of perfume, a set of ivory hair pins and a leather bound diary; an anonymous gift she had found on her door step on morning, wrapped in yellow silk with her name printed neatly onto the note which had been left alongside the package.

She had tried to find out who had left it there, but when she had asked her friend Lifaen if he perhaps knew, he had simply smiled and informed her that whoever it was would most likely reveal themselves within time, and that she might as well make use of the diary since it was obviously gifted to her.

It had been two months and the culprit still had not unveiled themselves to her. Indis suspected that Lifaen indeed did now the truth about the mysterious diary, but was keeping her in the dark, although why, she could not fathom.

Indis forcibly pushed the thoughts about the diary out of her mind and focused on retrieving the object she required. Opening and shutting the drawers and compartments hastily, Indis finally found what she was searching for and lifted it out of the polished wooden drawer.

Indis ran her fingers along the box's smooth mahogany surface, lifted the small metal latch that kept the lid in place and opened slowly opened it.

Inside was a set of two silver bracelets which had a pattern of intertwining lilies and vines running along their crafted surface. Holding them aloft so that the light reflected of them, Indis slipped the bracelets onto her wrist and returned the box to its original place inside the cupboard.

Straightening from her crouching position on the carpeted floor of her house, Indis quickly picked up her brush from the vanity and drew it through her straight hair, before applying an even amount of Rose oil to her neck and wrists, and retrieving her present to Alanís.

Once Indis was satisfied that she was presentable, she quietly left her room and walked out of her neat cottage, closing the door behind her.

Swiftly opening the door to her rooms, Tiranë entered her furnished quarters and shut the door behind her.

Releasing a small sigh and plopping down onto the nearest chair, she pinched the bridge of her nose and heaved a tired yawn. Indis was due to arrive soon, which meant that she had approximately ten minutes to comb her hair and apply perfume and do whatever else needed to be done in order to look presentable.

Standing up, Tiranë hurriedly walked into the bathing room and over to her wooden dressing table. She brought out the box of feminine items gifted to her by Arya, as a welcome present, and dabbed a measure of Jasmine oil onto her neck and shoulders, before hastily drawing her ivory comb through her long dark tresses, causing them to shine brilliantly.

Assured that she looked appropriate, she walked out of the bathroom, and up the stairs to the second story of her house, where she was certain Turgon would be waiting for her.

Tiranë was proven correct, for when she reached the top of the stairs, she spied her dragon resting near a book case, his claws making clicking noises as he absently struck them lightly onto the wooden floor.

"Ah…she has arrived," Turgon joked when she entered the room, then cut himself off when he caught sight of her new dress. "I must say, Tiranë, you look beautiful.That dress suits you wonderfully," he complimented her.

Tiranë coloured up prettily. "Thankyou."

"Who are you trying to impress," he replied cheekily.

"Nobody….Indis will be here soon, if you were wondering," Tiranë said, trying side-step the question.

"Right…. Actually, I _was_ wondering. I am anxious to meet your new friend."

"You will, soon."

"Hopefully…. So…? Besides making a friend, what did you do today?"

"Well, I…went for a walk, spoke with Islanzadí, met Indis, saw the lake, met Indis' cousin, got myself and you invited to a party, paid a visit to a seamstress, was given this dress as a gift, and came back here. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. What about you?"

"Went flying. Explored Ellesmera. The usual."

"Oh."

A remote quietness filled the room, and the only sound was caused when Turgon's scales rustled as he stretched out his wings.

The silence stretched on until a knock was heard from the front door.

"That'll be Indis. I'll be right back," said Tiranë, before lifting her skirts and heading down the staircase towards the door.

The knocking continued, and when Tiranë opened the front door, she was greeted with the sight of Indis pausing in mid-knock, her clenched fist in the air. Indis lowered her fist, smiling awkwardly. "Hi."

"Hi….Well? What are you standing outside for Indis?Come inside," Tiranë prompted when Indis hesitated to enter her house.

"Alright…," Indis said, looking nervous, before stepping timidly into the house, and placing a small silk covered item onto the decorative table under the main window.

"Would you like to see him now? I know he wants to meet you," Tiranë told her, not asking questions about the gift.

"Yes please," Indis replied, grinning childishly.

"Come with me," Tiranë bade her, reaching for her hand and leading her to the staircase.

"I'm so nervous," Indis admitted.

"Don't be, he doesn't bite. Well, don't touch his food and he won't," joked Tiranë.

Indis paled.

"I'm just joking," said Tiranë, when she saw the expression on Indis' face.

Squeezing Indis' hand comfortingly, Tiranë led her up the staircase to the second floor, coming to a halt when they were standing on the plush green carpet which had been spread across the timber floor like a bed of fresh grass.

Hearing their arrival,Turgon turned his clear, violet gaze to where the two noiselessly stood, quietly assessing the young Elf-girl next to his Rider with probing eyes, causing Tiranë to hide a small smile. After what seemed like hours to Indis, Turgon heaved himself off the floor, and came to stand in front of her, lowering his head until it was level with hers.

Eyes wide, Indis lifted two long fingers to her lips, and respectably recited the first sentence of the Elvish greeting.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," she said in her lightly accented voice.

Projecting his thoughts, Turgon continued, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr_."_

"Un du evarínya ono varda,' Indis completed.

"_I_ _am honoured to meet you, friend of my Rider_," the dragon told her in her mind.

"_It is I who is honoured, Bjartskular, to have met you and your Rider."_

"_That is good to hear. I have been told we are to be present at a birthday celebration, but I am afraid we do not know the way. Would you be so kind as to assist us_?"

"_Of course! You have no need to ask! I would be my pleasure to lead you there."_

"_Thank you, Indis_," said Turgon, leaning in to nose her cheek.

"_You are welcome, Bjartskular_," Indis replied, rubbing his indigo neck with her small hand.

"Er…I'm feeling a little left out here you know," Tiranë's voice piped up from the behind them.

At this, Indis merely giggled, while Turgon blew a gust of warm air through his nose at her,rolling his eyes.

"Sorry, Anë," Indis apologized, still grinning.

"Yes, and I am the Queen of Alagaësia," Tiranë replied dryly, though not without a smirk.

"_You are incorrigible_," Turgon voiced inside both of their heads.

"_Right you are, Skulblaka_," Indis agreed, jokingly.

"Look at you two! You have known each other for five minutes, and you are already conspiring against me!"

"_What can I say, an opportunity to tease the mighty Tiranë, Rider of Alagaësia, is too tempting to resist."_

"_I am afraid I have to concur_," Indis jested.

Tiranë plastered a mock glower onto her features, but it soon melted off as she laughed at the jest.

"Well, I am glad that you two have become such firm friends, but we really should get going. It's already past sunset," Tiranë reasoned, speaking out loud.

"You're right. The glade is a fair distance away, and we do not want to be late. Besides, my mother will skin me alive if I am," chided Indis, emitting an exaggerated shudder.

Tiranë laughed once more. "Indis, I think you have acquired a knack for making jokes."

"I think perhaps I have."

"_I will wait for you outside_," Turgon added, before launching out of the tear shaped portal which formed a door and launching pad for the dragon's huge form.

"Okay then, let us go," Tiranë piped up, skipping to the stairs in an exaggeratedly childish manner.

"Erm…..Tiranë?."

The Rider halted at the top of the staircase, her hand resting on the timber railing. "Yes?"

"What about your shoes?"

"Oh. Good point. Give me a second," answered Tiranë, before disappearing into her room.

Indis stood patiently beside the oval table in the center of the room, waiting, when Tiranë poked her head out of her chamber door, holding out a pair of dark red embroidered slippers.

"How about these?"

"Perfect. Now put them on and let's go. Can't keep Turgon waiting forever, can we?"

"You really like him don't you," Tiranë asked her, sliding the slippers onto her feet.

"Yes, I do."

" I am glad. I hoped you two would become friends."

"So did I."

"Okay, I'm ready," said Tiranë, adjusting her bright red shoes.

"Good, let's go."

The two girls walked quickly down the stairs, before leaving the house, and rushing to meet Turgon at the forest floor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Narí sat leisurely on the branch of a tall oak tree, one leg dangling carelessly over the side and the other perched on the branch before him, supporting his arm.

He often came to this particular tree to clear his mind and think clearly, preferring the quiet solitude of the forest to the noise and bustle of Ellesméra. Narí found that in the last few months, he had been needing to visit his hidden solace more and more often, and each time he had been in more and more need for closure and peace of mind.

The reason for his sleep-deducting dilemmas and constant uncertainty being the rather small and irrelevant issue of a She-Elf named Indis. Except the problem was that she wasn't a small issue and not even close to being irrelevant.

He did not know how it had even happened, but Narí had fallen fool in love with the shy, cerulean blue eyed maiden, and the knowledge frightened him beyond reason.

What if she did not return his feelings?

Is she already pledged to another?

Does she love him?

All these questions and countless others had occupied his every waking moment, and he was too cowardly to do anything about it.

He wondered for the umpteenth time what on Alagaesia he was thinking when he had left that diary on her doorstep….and if she had like it. Narí had poured all of his effort and a large amount of time into carefully printing the image of a sea nymph onto the soft leather of that diary, and had visited a trusted seamstress who agreed to sew Indis' name in the finest possible script onto the front of the beautiful book. He only hoped it would bring her joy, and that she would appreciate the meaning of her name printed on the front. _Sea maiden_, a name he thought fitting for one so beautiful.

Narí had cursed himself repeatedly, telling himself that he was a fool, that he should just speak to her, and he still could not pluck up enough courage to address the matter.

So, instead, he had avoided her, ignoring her when she had called his name, looking the other way when he saw her approach and doing his utmost not to be left alone with her. Nari knew he had hurt her, and the knowledge caused him to despise himself, but he also knew that if he were to confront her, to stare into those intense blue eyes and hear her sweet voice, that he would do something foolish. Such as seize her by the waist and crush his lips onto hers.

But, being the coward that he was, he instead was sitting, hidden from all the world, in the large branches of one of the largest trees in Ellesméra. Alone.

Narí spent the next hour mulling through his thoughts, which mostly consisted of Indis, and listening to the sounds of the forest, his eyes closed. He vacantly heard somebody swing themselves onto the branch next to him., but did not acknowledge them.

Minutes passed, and Narí still did not open his eyes, which caused the being next to him to sigh loudly and say,

"I do not know why you refuse to speak with her, Narí," Lifaen's exasperated voice spoke from in front of him.

"I do not see how it is any of your concern, Lifaen," Narí replied, a bored tone lacing his own voice, his eyes still stubbornly shut.

"It is my concern, it became my concern when you began to needlessly cause yourself and Indis pain."

"Lifaen, drop the subject. I do not wish to speak of it."

"I will not drop the subject! You are hurting her!"

"Do you think that I do not know that? Do you honestly believe that I am not aware that the cause for Indis' pain is me? If you are, then you clearly do not know me Lifaen," Narí exploded, eyes snapping open.

"Then just talk to her, you dolt," was Lifaen's heated reply.

"I wish it were that simple," Narí's voice had become tired, as though he were extremely weak.

"It is that simple."

Narí sighed.

"Lifaen, it does no good for either of us to be fighting like cat and dog. Let us speak of this later. Right now, as you have no doubt forgotten, we are expected at a party, so we really should be on our way."

Lifaen punched Narí's arm lightly. "I most certainly did not forget, I was just about to mention the exact same thing."

"Of course you were, Lifaen," Narí answered, dodging another well placed punch.

The two swung lithely from the branches and jumped expertly from the tree, landing lightly onto their feet on the damp forest floor.

"I'll wager I can beat you to the city by twenty steps," Lifaen called out as broke out into a run for Ellesméra.

"You must be dreaming, Lifaen! I will be dancing with Alanís before you even set foot into the city," Narí replied, grinning, as he burst forward, quickly gaining on his sprinting friend.

Lifaen smiled slightly to himself as he ran through the woods, satisfied that he had brought a smile to Narí's face.

First part of chapter 6 completed! Banzai! Fear not faithful readers, I, the author of this story, hereby pledge to have the second part of chapter 6 posted within 2-3 days! Hurrah! Anyway, I have one thing I need to make clear; Indis does not mean sea maiden. I made it up, because I needed to find a good picture to describe as being on the front of her diary. Also, I know that Elves would NEVER even touch leather, but please bear with me on this one. As always, read, review and enjoy.

Namarie,

Artanisofavalon.


	7. The celebration part two

I present to you, the second part of chapter 6, as promised. Now will you please review?

Disclaimer: For the last bloody time! I do not own a damn thing!

To the story. Enjoy.

The clearing was large and green and full of Elves. Colourful lanterns were suspended from slim Elvish ropes which ran from one side of the glade to the other, crisscrossing about the tree branches, and causing the coloured glass bulbs to illuminate their eerie light onto the gathered Elves.There were birch tables laden with a large variety of foods, ranging from pies to glazed tarts, and silver platters which were piled with different fruits.

Soft Elven music was flowing through the air, and there was a sweet autumnal scent wafting along with the slight breeze.

Walking underneath the arched ceiling of the tree tops, Tiranë eyed her surroundings with a delighted smile on her face, and inhaled a lungful of the twilight air. It smelled of pine trees, and the fragrance curled itself around Tiranë's senses, clearing her head and causing her to close her eyes in pleasure.

"Have you ever been to an Elvish party before, Tiranë?" Indis asked her, noticing the look of wonder in her friends unique green-gold orbs.

"No, I must admit that I haven't," Tiranë answered.

"Well, I assure you, it will be a large amount of fun...for both of you."

"_We have no doubt that you are right, Indis _," Turgon rumbled.

Indis smiled brightly. " I am glad to hear that you trust my judgement so, Turgon. Now, would you both like to meet Alanís? I know for a fact that she would not object to seeing you."

"Of course, we must wish her a happy birthday, and thank her for allowing us to join in the merry-making," Tiranë answered, speaking for both herself and Turgon.

"Excellent. I think I spotted her near the flower beds…" Indis trailed off, her eyes searching the crowd. "Ah! There she is! Come, I will take you to her."

Indis led Tiranë and Turgon to where her cousin was reclining on a white oak bench, sipping from an elegantly wrought glass of faelnírv.

Eyeing her thoughtfully, Tiranë noticed that Alanís bore a great deal of similarities to her cousin; from her long dark hair, to her lovely slim face and long, feathery eyelashes, which rested against her porcelain cheeks, as she stared into the dregs of her cup.

The maiden had evidently sensed their approach, for she lifted her eyes, and her face broke into a great grin when she caught sight of Indis.

"Indis," Alanís exclaimed, bolting out of her seat in a rustle of green silk and into her cousin's outstretched arms. "I thought you would never arrive!"

Indis laughed, wrapping her arms around her cousins pale shoulders. "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you! I would not have been much of a birthday without you here, I am so ha-," Alanís cut herself off when she saw Tiranë and Turgon standing off to the side.

Indis saw where her cousin was staring and quickly explained. "Alanís, there are some friends I wish for you to meet," she beckoned for them to come closer. "This is Tirane, and her dragon, Turgon. I invited them to your party, and they would like to congratulate you on your birthday."

Tiranë awkwardly stepped forward, Turgon following suit. "I'm pleased to meet you, Alanís" she said shyly.

"_As am I_," Turgon piped up, projecting his voice.

"We would both like to wish you a happy birthday, and thank you for allowing us to be present," Tirane added, smiling lopsidedly.

Alanís stepped towards them, grinning in a friendly manner. "You have no need to thank me! I am ecstatic to have you here, and indeed, even more so, to have finally met you two. You are most welcome here, Shur'tugal." At this, Tiranë's smile broadened and Turgon hummed in his chest.

The dragon answered, "_That is enlightening to hear. Again, we would like to wish you joy on this special day_."

"Thank you, Skulblaka," Alanís answered, reaching out to pat his scaled neck.

"Marvellous!" Indis spoke up. "Now that we have been acquainted, why do we not dance?"

"An excellent idea, Indis! And a very appealing one, I must admit! Tiranë, Turgon, do join us!" Alanís exclaimed, removing her hand from Turgon's neck.

"Er…well…I can't say that I'm much of a dancer," Tiranë said, praying to whatever Gods there were that she would not have to make a laughing-stock of herself this day.

"Oh, that doesn't matter! I'll teach you! Oh, do join in, it'll be fun!" Alanís pleaded, eyes sparkling.

Sighing, Tiranë decided that Alanís was indeed very accomplished at the useful art of persuasion. "Alright, but I'm warning you, Alanís, if you end up with a few broken toes, I am not responsible."

Alanís and her cousin both laughed. "Nonsense! I'll wager there is an excellent dancer hidden somewhere inside, Tiranë. You just haven't found her yet!" said Indis.

"Exactly," Alanís agreed with her.

"I would not be so sure if I were you, ladies. You were not there the last time she tried her skills at dancing," Turgon joined in the conversation, laughing when Tiranë turned a bright red colour.

"What ever happened to encouraging a person, Turgon?" Tiranë retorted, still blushing.

He did not answer but instead said, "Alanís, if you would be so kind, could you please tell me where I can sit?"

"Oh, of course Skulblaka." She pointed to large tree. "Do you spy that birch tree over there, by the stream? There is a gap between its roots that should be just big enough for a dragon."

"Thank you, Alanís," Turgon thanked her, before he walked himself over to the said tree.

Tiranë watched him leave.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let us go!" Indis' voice was laced with excitement.

Tiranë's eyes widened in horror of what was to come as they walked deeper into the green, where numerous Elves were engaged in the merry, winding dance that was native to their kind.

**X**

Narí watched the dancers as they moved, his eyes searching the crowd for Indis against his will. He spotted her with Alanís and the Rider Tiranë, and she seemed to be teaching the young human girl the steps required for the difficult dance.

Narí smiled as his eyes followed her, noting the way the waterfall of her dark hair flailed out as she spun. She was so beautiful to him that it ached, and he could find no way to stop it, despite how hard he tried. The image of her crystalline blue eyes had been forever imprinted in his mind from the moment he laid eyes on her, like hot iron to flesh. It had taken him years to finally admit that he loved her, and now that he had come to terms with that fact, he had not the courage to do anything about it.

"How do you find the celebration, Narí?" The saucy female voice asked from behind him.

He turned around, and was met with the sight of a lovely looking Aríen in a pale blue gown, her pale shoulders and a large amount of her chest enticingly revealed. Narí's lips curled into a smile.

"Very enjoyable, although I can think of many things that can be even more so," he answered, taking a sip from his goblet, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Really? And what would those things be?" She asked him, moving forward to stand face to face before him.

"Hmmm…? I wonder…watching the stars, swimming at the lake, composing songs to praise the beauty of fair maidens," Narí said, deliberately misunderstanding her obvious meaning.

Aríen narrowed her eyes, assessing him, before smiling over her shoulder at him, and joining where he was leaning against the thick wood of the intricately carved gazebo to the side located at the side of the clearing.

"I have not seen for quite a while, Narí. Where have you been?" Aríen asked innocently, but Narí knew the underlying meaning.

"I have been busy. Caught up in some important affairs," he answered in what he hoped was a sincere voice.

"Of course. Being a guard for Queen Islanzadí is not a duty which allows much freedom for luxury," Aríen agreed.

Silence reigned between them, neither of them speaking, simply watching the crowd. Narí was well aware that Aríen meant to seduce him, and although she was unearthly beautiful, even for an Elf, in his mind, she could not compare to Indis. How he wished Indis would come to him, let him love her, but Narí knew she was too proud for that. She had too much self-respect to give herself to a man who did not intend to mate with her. And she was unaware of how he felt.

In the time Narí had spent lost in his thoughts about Indis, Aríen had possessively linked her arm through his. She stared up at him with a lustful smile on her beautiful face, and suggestively drew her hair to the left side of her neck, revealing skin as pale as the moon to his eyes.

Narí deliberately drew a look of curiousity onto his face, and his eyebrows knitted together as he reached out to her neck, making it seem as though he wished to caress her. He heard her breath hitch in anticipation, thinking that he meant to stroke her, and he instead directed his hand to where her delicate moonstone pendant rested against the her soft skin.

Picking it up, and moving closer to her in order to inspect it, Narí huskily said, "This is very beautiful."

"Isn't it? It was my mother's," she answered, breathlessly.

Narí found teasing the She-Elf very satisfying. If he could not have Indis, it did not mean that he could not have Aríen, or any other maiden who chose to come to him, and if such a situation were to present itself, like it was at the present, he fully intended to make the most of it. Narí knew it wasn't wrong, for it _was_ true that an Elf could explore before choosing a mate, wasn't it?

Looking straight into her dark eyes, so different from Indis', he slowly retracted his hand, and drew himself upright, leaving the flushed Aríen to compose herself.

They resumed watching the crowd, and to Narí's horror, he found Indis standing still amidst the dancers, watching them. He thought he saw her eyes glisten, but before he could be sure she plastered a smile onto her face, and lifted her hand to wave at him.

His heart thumping so loudly he was sure people in Osílon could hear it, Narí ignored her, pretended he hadn't seen and turned his attention back to Aríen, who lifted her hand to his face. Hating himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, and he felt rather than saw the look of utter pain that crossed Indis' features at the snub.

It had to be done, Narí knew, for if he could not resume his friendship with her whilst knowing she did not love him. It would break his heart to see her with another, and he understood that the only way to escape such an event would be to break off all contact with her.

What he did not understand, however, was why it had hurt so much.

X 

Indis turned and ran, blinded by the tears which were streaking down her face. She ran and ran until she was far from the glade. And Narí.

Indis wondered how he had become so cold; every time he saw her he looked away. Whenever she waved or called out his name in greeting, Narí pretended he did not hear. What had she done that offended him so? Was it, perhaps, something she had said? Had he misunderstood something? Or did he just not like her?

Whatever it was, his actions had wounded her, and she was not sure she would recover. Indis knew she was a fool, but she loved him. She had always loved him, and from the first moment she had met him, Indis knew that he was the only one who would complete her. She had even dared hope that it was him who had left her the diary.But today had proven that her feelings were not returned; that his affections were Aríen's.

The thought of Narí with Aríen made her sick with the hurt it inflicted. Why was it always the beautiful maidens who ended up with the happily ever after She-Elf's like herself yearned for? Why couldn't Narí see that there was to her than a plain face?

Her vision blurred by unshed tears, Indis continued to run, not seeing the thick buttress root which poked out of the ground. Her foot catching underneath it, she did not have the chance to grab hold of something before she crashed to the floor, cracking her head onto a stone and losing consciousness.

X 

Tiranë twirled around in the tall He-Elf's arms, moving her feet merrily in time with the jumpy music. Elwing, as her dance partner was called, was a handsome male Elf with violet eyes and shining silver hair, who had manners and a sense of humour to match his good looks.

He laughed gaily and spun her around in his arms, his hands around her waist. Tiranë could feel an embarrassed blush forming on her cheeks as he placed her on the ground again. Despite her initial distaste for dancing at the beginning, Tiranë had to admit that it was quite exhilarating.

Alanís and Indis had turned out to be patient dance instructors, and although she came close to cracking their toes a few times, they had giggled it off and resumed the lesson. Tiranë was now slightly more comfortably with dancing, and despite the fact that she had a long way to go before she was classified as lithe and graceful, she was confident that she could be deemed acceptable.

Tiranë had danced with a number of Elves, all of whom had been friendly and engaging, and, thank goodness, none of whom had been Indis' cousin. She shuddered at the thought of the serious Elf with his arms around her waist, though she knew not if it was from repulse or delight. Tiranë had successfully avoided him throughout the night, but not without catching sight of him a few times. She was loath to admit it, but she would have been lying if she had claimed he did not look good. Vanir was clothed in a russet tunic that had been expertly embroidered with a complex pattern of animals and vines. His long legs were clad in black leggings and his dark hair was braided in the Elvish style. Tiranë's knees felt weak.

As Elwing prepared to spin her around once more, somebody came up behind him, and tapped him lightly on his broad shoulders. Tiranë was dismayed to note that it was Vanir.

"Would you mind if I were to ask the lady to join me for a dance, Elwing?" He asked, polite and formal.

"Why, of course, if the lady permits. I was just about to excuse myself for a rest, coincidentally," Elwing's deep voice held a note of amusement.

Tiranë found it hard to believe an Elf would become tired after mere dancing but did not comment on it. She instead said,

"It is alright if you wish to leave, Elwing. It has been a pleasure meeting your acquaintance."

"The pleasure has been all mine, fair Lady," he replied, kissing her hand and walking away, though not before broadly winking at her.

Not for the first time that night, Tiranë's face heated up.

"Would you like to dance?" Vanir asked her, courteously.

"Y-yes," she answered, appalled when her voice broke.

The twisting, very warm feeling in her stomach intensified as the Elf wound his arms around her and began moving in time with the lively tune.

"My cousin seems to like you very much, Rider," Vanir said.

"I like her also, very much. She is a good friend, and please call me Tiranë," was the reply that came from Tiranë's suddenly parch dry mouth.

"I am much relieved to hear that…Tiranë."

She did not reply, for he had asked no question.

The two continued to dance, Vanir watching Tiranë intently, while she tried to ignore his scrutinizing gaze. Unexpectedly, he lifted her up, and spun her in a circle, placing her gently down onto the grass when he had executed the move. He did not, however, remove his hands from her waist. Tiranë then noticed that they had moved away from the rest of the crowd, and were now standing underneath the low hanging branches of one of the many trees which ringed around the clearing.

Vanir still had not removed his hands. Becoming annoyed, Tiranë irritatedly said, "I do not mean be rude, but could you please remove your hands from my waist?"

To her further annoyance, he did not reply, but instead stared at her mouth as though entranced, still not removing his hands.

Tiranë's fiery streak taking over, she poked him in the chest. "Can you not hear me? I said, remo-"

Whatever she was planning on saying was never uttered, for he crashed his lips onto hers in a fiery kiss, sending bolts of unexplained heat coursing throughout her entire body. Her eyes widened, then widened even further when he backed her up against the tree, and ran his tongue over her lower lip.

Tiranë could feel herself melting, wanting, needing, to kiss him back. Her eyelids began to droop, and to her terror, she found herself responding. It was not until he sought to part her lips did she snap back into reality, and pushed him fiercely away, panting.

He stood looking at her, breathing heavily, with a bemused expression on his face. "Why did you push me away? I thought you were enjoying it."

"Why did I push you away? We barely even know each other and you kiss me! That is why I pushed you away!"

"I did not think you would mind," said Vanir.

"What on earth made you think that? For I most certainly do mind when somebody steals my first kiss!"

"This was your first kiss?"

"Ye- That is not important!"

"I am sorry."

"You should be!"

"Well, will you forgive me?"

"Maybe."

He sighed. " I truly am sorry. It was just a spur of the moment type of thing." Vanir hoped she would believe the outright lie.

Tiranë was surprised when she felt disappointed at his words. " Well, if what you say is true, I forgive you, but please, do not do it again!"

Vanir laughed out loud. "You can be sure I will not. At least, not with out your permission."

Feeling uncomfortable, as she usually did when she was around the Elf, she said, "I really do have to leave. If you will excuse me." Tiranë began to walk away, but he grabbed her arm preventing her from leaving.

"Don't go, please."

"Vanir, I will not be leaving the party. I just need to remove myself from this particular area before I do something that we will both regret. Good night."

That being said, she turned and walked away, leaving a disgusted looking Vanir behind her.

"Well, that about ruins any chances you will ever have with her, you fool," Vanir thought to himself.

Resisting the urge to kick something, he left his current occupation in the opposite direction in which Tiranë had exited.

Vanir hoped he would be able to kiss her again.

**X **

A few hours later, Tiranë and Turgon walked quietly out of the glade, preparing to make their way home now that the party was over. Gifts had been given, cake had been eaten, and Tiranë had successfully managed to avoid a certain dark-haired He-Elf. When Alanís had asked her where she had disappeared to, Tiranë had experienced the most uncomfortable several moments of her life, and had, surprisingly, managed to side-step the entire question by claiming that she thought she heard somebody calling her name.

As she walked beside Turgon, not speaking, just observing and listening to the harmony of the night, her indigo dragon addressed the one matter she would have been glad never to discuss ever again.

"It is no use trying to hide the fact from me, Tiranë. I know he kissed you."

Tiranë looked away. "Well, if you knew, why did you not confront him? I know that if I was in your shoes, he would be lying on the ground nursing a broken nose!"

"Is that so? And to answer your question, my dear, the reason as to why I did not flay his chest open is because I believe he he might be smitten with you," Turgon answered, amused.

She snorted, skeptical. " And I believe you have consumed a little too much faelnírv than is good for you, Turgon. He does not even know me!"

"I will pretend I did not hear that."

"You do that. I am warning you Turgon, if you tell any-" Tiranë's unbelieving gasp cut off her next words, her eyes widening to the size of saucers.

"What is it?" Turgon asked her, confused.

Tiranë did not even have the presence of mind to form words, her shock causing her mind to stop functioning. She instead lifted her hand and pointed to the seemingly unrealistic scene.

Turgon then understood his Rider's reaction, for there, lying motionless on the ground, was Indis, her long hair spread out on the ground before her, a small trail of blood seeping from her head.

Chapter six: completed! Finally! I have had a MAJOR bout of the writer's block, and I have been staring at the screen for the past, oh, FOUR hours, with only the word UH… echoing in my head. To be honest, I do not really like this chapter much, but, if you feel differently, then PLEASE tell me! Oh, what the heck, just bloody read and review.

Anywho, I really must be off now.

Ta ta!

Artanisofavalon


	8. The fate of Indis

I'm back! It took me long enough, I know. But hopefully this chapter will make up for it. Darn those ridiculous assignments! I have one warning for you though, there is a short romance scene in this chapter. Nothing drastic, but it is not appropriate for children, either.

Disclaimer: I do not own a thing.

Let us begin!

"She hit her head quite hard, so I would not be surprised if she were to remain unconscious for a few days," the healer grimly told the two worried females.

"Will she be alright? I mean, will she still be normal?" Tiranë braced herself for the answer as she asked the dreaded question.

"Oh, she should be fine. Aside from a painful headache when she regains consciousness, and soreness around the cut on her head, Indis should make a full recovery." The healer, Avelyne's, words, came as a great relief.

"Thank you kindly for your efforts, Avelyne, we appreciate it. I am sure Indis does too," Alanís thanked the sable haired Elf on all their behalf.

"It was no problem. I did whatever was in my power and skill to do. I have some errands to run, so if you do not mind, I should get going. You know where to find me if anything happens, do not hesitate to inform of any change," Avelyne told them, sweeping her first two fingers to her lips and politely saluting them.

Alanís and Tiranë imitated the gesture. "Again, thank you, Avelyne. We are extremely grateful," Tiranë voiced her gratitude, Alanís nodding to her words.

Avelyne smiled. "There is no need for such formalities. She was in need and I did the best I could. Oh, I almost forgot. Do you see that pot over there?" She pointed to the elegantly wrought piece, "Inside, there is some herbal tea that I have brewed. Feed it to her every few hours. It will help her heal and cope with the pain when she awakens."

"Of course," the two maidens echoed in unison.

"Excellent. I shall see you two later, I am sure, when I return to check the bandages. Farewell," Avelyne said in her quiet voice, before leaving the healing apartments in a rustle of russet skirts.

Tiranë and Alanís watched her leave. Sighing, Alanís moved to sit on one of the stools which rested at the side of the bed in the center of the room.

"I honestly can not fathom how this could have happened," Alanís spoke the words. "I mean, one moment she was there dancing with us, and the next she's lying on a sickbed, as white as a sheet."

"I know how you feel. It is always horrible when someone close to you is injured, but, we take consolation in the fact that she will fully recover. We must be thankful for that," Tiranë answered, attempting to ease Alanís' visible distress. She had a feeling that the two cousins were very close.

"I suppose you are right. But, I can not help but wonder why she disappeared as she did. Something must have occurred."

"I agree. It is meaningless to wonder about it, though. We will ask her when she regains consciousness."

Alanís was silent.

The moments trickled by, agonizingly slow, before the Elf spoke once more.

"Tiranë, I would just like you to know, that I am grateful for the apparent happiness you have brought Indis. Apart from family, she has not many friends. Your help here tonight, is also much appreciated. I hope that you and I could also become friends," Alanís spoke with emotion.

"I would like that. And, as I have stated to Vanir, I, also, am very fond of Indis." Tiranë replied.

Alanís smiled a small pretty smile.

"You can leave if you wish, Tiranë. I will keep an eye on her. Two actually," the pretty She-Elf offered.

"Thank you for offering, but I would sleep much better if I stayed here," Tiranë declined.

"The same goes for me. I have a feeling this is going to be long night," Alanís said in her Elven voice.

Tiranë nodded her agreement, and rounded the bed to sit at Indis' other side, looking at her pale face and bandaged forehead.

"We had best start waiting, then."

Aríen sighed as Narí caressed her ample chest, his chin resting in the sensitive area where her neck joined her shoulders.

They had arrived at his house shortly after leaving the party, and were at the moment thoroughly engrossed in their sensual exploration of each other's body. It was not the first time, but their strong arousal guaranteed it would just as satisfying as that night not too long ago.

She gasped as her tweaked her nipples into firm peaks. His hands, as she had discovered some months before, could work complete magic. The memories of how he had stroked and touched her caused a warm rush of moisture to dampen the feminine area between her thighs.

He removed his hands from her breasts, but the squeak of protest dies on her lips as he came to stand before her and kissed her lustily. "So good…" she thought. It was her last coherent thought for some time.

Narí broke his lips from hers, and looked into her dark eyes. "Do you want this?"

She stared back at him. "Of course I want this, Narí," she answered his question breathlessly.

He pressed his lips back onto hers and eased her dress from her shoulders. In a matter of seconds, it was pooled at the floor around her dainty feet.

Narí drew back to run his eyes over her shapely form. He felt himself harden even further. He reached forth to skim his fingers over the upper swell of her perfect mounds, fascinated by the way her little nipples crinkled in the cool air. Narí cupped them in his hands, squeezing gently.

He quickly shed his tunic and leggings. Aríen's breathing became laboured, her chest heaving as she caught sight of his sculpted physique and large arousal.

He walked towards her, grasped her shoulders, and led her towards his bed. His large bed.

All thoughts of Indis' guiltily flitted from his mind as they fell onto his mattress in a tangle of arms and legs, and began what would most likely be an extremely pleasurable night.

Eragon lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was exhausted; he and Saphira had spent the day in the heart of the crags with Glaedr, learning about the history of the Riders, yet he could not seem to find sleep.

His fingers were linked behind his head, and Eragon lazily traced the curving patterns on the ceiling with his eyes, thinking about the dark haired maiden he had encountered the day before.

Eragon had only caught a brief sight of her, but it was enough to know that she was pleasing on the eyes. The way her dark hair had swirled around her as she moved and the sight of her shapely limbs and generously proportioned body had caused him to stop and stare. It was unnerving how he was thinking of another maiden. Had he gotten over his infatuation with Arya?

Nevertheless, Eragon continued to reminisce about the mystery Elf. Who was she? Would he see her again? He found himself hoping he would.

It would be nice to have someone to love him back, after all.

Taking care to not spill the herbal mixture, Tiranë poured a measure of the herbal tea Avelyne had prepared into clean cup, and handed it to Alanís.

"Thank you," Alanís murmured her thanks. "Could you please prop her head up, Tiranë?"

"Of course," Tiranë answered, doing as she had been asked.

Alanís gently opened Indis' mouth, and, as carefully as she was able, began to pour the aromatic mixture into it while Tiranë instinctively massaged Indis' throat to help her swallow it.

There was no response from Indis, save for her eyes moving underneath their lids. The task completed, Alanís placed the cup onto the side table next to the pot, and, using her white handkerchief, gently wiped Indis' mouth and chin clean of any excess tea.

The two wearily sat.

As the silence between them stretched on, Tiranë involuntarily began to think about the kiss she had experienced earlier that night. Against her wishes, Tiranë's face flamed and a foreign, throbbing, damp feeling settled between her legs as she remembered the softness of the blasted He-Elf's lips against hers.

If Alanís had noticed Tiranë's state, she did not comment, and for that the Rider was thankful.

She willed herself to direct her thoughts to another source, and instead concentrated on assessing the room they were in. The walls were quite plain, and a pure, white colour which considerably dulled the atmosphere. There was an assortment of bowls and pitchers in the room, as well as a box of herbs which resided on top of one of the drawers beside Indis' bed. Indis' gown lay over the back of one of the chairs at the side of the room, and the only other items in the place aside from Alanís and Tiranë were various other medical supplies.

All in all, it was quite boring.

Tiranë felt guilty when she realised that she had not thought of Turgon since they had parted a number of hours ago, but shrugged it off. There would be plenty of time to spend together later on.

Right now the important thing was Indis awakening.

And hopefully, she would do it soon.

Well, that's all for now folks! Sorry that it took me so long to update, and I also apologise for the lack of action. There will be soon, promise. Now, you know the drill, read and review people! Reviews are my source of oxygen! You should be aware of that by now!

Anyway, I must get going,

Toodles!

Artanisofavalon.


	9. Dreams

Hi! Short chapter I know, but I am trying to introduce Arya into the story. Please do not kill me! (hides behind desk chair) Anyway, read and review, and enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I have already told you, it was not me who kidnapped Eragon! For the last time!

Let the games begin.

X

Arya sat on the curved wooden bench near her window, a bottle of faelnírv in her hand, and tears streaking down her face.

How much had she drank? Two, three bottles? Or was it four?

She could not remember.

Arya knew it was foolish of her to consume so much alcohol, but, at present, she did not care. Foälin was dead. There was nothing to care for anymore.

The leaves which adorned the tall trees rustled as a night breeze blew through their branches, and Arya savoured the sensation of it brushing her wet face, drying her tears. Now that she was back at home, back at her beloved Ellesméra, she could finally mourn. Mourn for the lover and the friends she had lost. Fäolin and Glenwing, the two people dearest to her.

She took a large swig from her bottle.

Her inebriated mind reminisced how Glenwing used to disappear for days in the forest, spending his time with the birds, his small, feathery companions, and how Fäolin had made a habit of sneaking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. More tears traced cool lines down her face.

Eragon's face surfaced in her mind.The boy was a loyal friend, and showed potential to be an excellent Rider, but he desperately needed to find someone his own age. Someone with less responsibilities, and more love to give him. He deserved that.

The silent tears which were falling down her face turned into violent sobs which wracked her whole frame. Arya was certain that not a soul knew of the turmoil that was hidden behind the cold, expressionless façade. She could not even remember the last time she had cried. Really cried, not a single tear on her cheek, but loud, heartfelt sobs.

It felt good.

The pained crying began to cease, and Arya sniffed quietly as she swallowed another mouthful of the strong drink. The liquid burned her throat.

It was true what they said about alcohol: the more you drink the better it tastes. Arya used to spit Faelnírv from her mouth when Fäolin poured it into her goblet when she was not looking as a joke, whereas now, she had consumed more of the drink in one night than any other being consumed in a month.

As she completed that thought, Arya's green-eyes glazed over , and she slumped into her seat as the peaceful blackness of oblivion enveloped her in its merciful embrace.

X

Indis dreamed.

She was at the party, and was dancing merrily with Narí. He was smiling, and kept lowering his mouth near her ear and whispering sweet things to her. Indis was sure she had never been so happy.

Narí lifted her up, twirling her around in his arms. When he set her down, she noticed that he was no longer dressed in the blue-grey tunic and leggings he had been wearing. Narí was now in a beautiful russet over tunic, with a bronze coloured undertunic beneath it, and a pair of finely woven black as night leggins was covering his strong limbs.

In fact, they were no longer at the glade, either. They were at the lake, but the trees had been laced with lanterns and there were tables of food and drink lining at the edge of the large clearing beside the cerulean pool. Other Elves were there, dancing and laughing with each other.

He was grinning now, and murmured, "You're so beautiful."

Indis smiled, flushing with pleasure. She looked down, and saw that she was also dressed differently. Her gown was a beautiful, milk-white colour, and had lovely silver stitching lining its neckline and hems. A bonding gown.

Her pretty, satin slippers covering her feet, Indis looked up at Narí, staring into his eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too" he said, but he was not looking at her. He was looking past her, and Indis brow furrowed as Narí broke out of her embrace, and headed towards whoever was behind her.

Indis turned, and her eyes widened when she saw Aríen, a vision of pure brilliance in her forest green dress. The Elf-maid's thick hair had been braided in the elegant style every Elvish bride graced on her mating day. (A/N: I know that they do not get married, but please bear with me. I have chosen to call it 'bonding' instead. Also, I could find no other word, so I settled for using bride.) A delicate woven circlet sat atop her clear forehead.

She was beautiful enough to enspire a poet's verse.

The ethereally fair woman turned to face Indis, and cruelly spoke, "Yes. He loves me."

Eyes brimmed with tears and her throat constricting, Indis croaked, confusedly shaking her head, "No."

Aríen maliciously continued, eyes gleaming with delight at Indis' anguish. "Yes. He is mine. I am his mate, and there is naught that you can do Indis." Aríen laughed.

"No! Narí, tell her! It is not true!"

Narí faced her. "It is true, Indis. I love her. We are bonded." Indis saw light reflect off the silver band on his ring finger.

"But… Narí… I love you. I love you Narí!"

Aríen spoke once more. "He does not love you. He will never love you. You are nothing, Indis Haldthín. You will always be nothing."

Indis' tears were running freely now, and the sobs were shaking her slim frame.

She looked up, and saw Narí looking straight into her eyes, before he coldly turned from her to passionsately kiss Aríen. The other Elves in the clearing applauded loudly, and they all ignored Indis, bumping into her roughly as they hurried to the couple.

Weeping, she turned and hurried from the glade.

Indis ran, and ran, until she was far from the lake and all those in it.

The part of the forest she was in now was dark, and unfriendly. There was a cold wind wildly blowing around her. Sharp branches and thorns caught on her skirt and sleeves, tearing them, and some unseen force was pulling on her loose hair. She cried out in pain as a branch whipped across her cheek, scratching it and causing it to bleed.

Indis looked down, and saw that the lower part of her dress was drenched in red. She felt blood running down her legs, and had no idea where it was coming from. It kept coming, gushing from some invisible wound.

Dizziness over came her, and a hard object collided with her head.

Indis screamed.

And then she fainted.

X

Short, I know, and I am sorry that it is taking me so long to update. My ridiculous computer is making it impossible! Forgive me. Anyway, read, review and enjoy!

P.S The whole blood thing is only meanty to show that she was hurt by the sight of her first and true love in the arms of another. That's all people.

Adios,

Artanisofavalon.


	10. Breaking noses is hard work

Yay! Another update! And this one did not take three years to publish!

Disclaimer: Um…No…It wasn't ME who kidnapped Murtagh!

To the story!

X

The long Elven blade sliced cleanly through the air, forming an impressive wide circle as Tiranë swung it before her and twirled quickly around, pulling her filigree sword sharply downwards till it was a two fingers breadth from the ground, and coming to a halt

squatted down on one leg with the other stretched out beside her.

Practicing her stances always helped Tiranë to think. It calmed and relaxed her, despite the sore muscles that always followed a long, hard practice.

Relaxation was something she sorely needed, for she had spent much of the former night at Indis' bedside with Alanís, waiting and feeding the unconscious maiden tea every few hours. Not an easy task.

She had had to fight to stay awake, and they had also helped Avelyn to redress the bandaging on Indis head. There hadn't been too much blood, but Avelyn had made it clear that it was necessary for the wound to be cleansed every so often to keep it free of bacteria and to help it heal.

Tiranë's fingers still smelled of the heavily fragranced poultice they had applied to Indis' head. It had been thick, and smelled strongly of herbs. The dark grey-green colour it had been had not looked too healthy, and Tiranë wondered how on Alagaësia that something so revolting could help any wound to heal.

She lifted herself from her position and held her blade out before her. It had been a gift from an Elvish blacksmith; a gift she was most grateful for, because unlike Eragon, she had had no sword of her own, only Brom's training ones.

The sword was exceptionally beautiful, and was far different from Zar'roc. Her blade was long, thin and slightly curved at the end, (A/N: Think along the lines of Hadhafang's shape, people!) with pictures of vines and flowers along with a rounded symbol filigreed into it.

It was a more feminine version of the combat swords that were used in battle, and was far more sturdier than what it appeared. The sword cut cut straight through wood in a single stroke if enough force was applied.

Her Elven scabbard was also something that could be described as not of human make. It was cut out of durable blue-dyed leather, and had the same designs as on her sword etched into it. Both of the pieces were things that she could never have dreamed of using before she had found Turgon's egg.

The thought of Turgon sent a warm surge of affection coursing through her, for she loved the dragon dearly. Before she had returned home to eat and receive some much needed sleep, the last time she had seen him was at the party.

Turgon had been worried about Indis, but Tiranë had recited what Avelyn had told them to him, and that had set him at ease. Slightly.

Tiranë had visited Indis again before she had come to the training area, which, thankfully, had been empty, to check on her, but she had not yet woken.

She had stayed a long while, conversing with a tired Alanís, trying to get her mind off her cousin, and had met Indis' mother.

Tiranë had almost asked the graceful woman who she was when she had entered the room, for she looked nothing like her daughter, but before she could do so, Alanís had shot to her feet, exclaiming, "Aunt!"

Aynëya, as her friend's mother was called, was shocked at what had happened to her daughter. She had greeted Tiranë and shed tears, sitting at Indis' side, holding her hand, whispering motherly things to her.

Tiranë, during the silence, had taken the time to analyse Indis' mother's appearance. She was very tall, not uncommon among the Elves, but, the two things that set her apart from the rest of her race were her hair and her eyes. Aynëya had beautiful, light brown-red coloured hair which fell to her waist in loose ringlets, and lovely yellow-chestnut eyes, which simply glowed with her wisdom and great knowledge.

The Elf-woman did not resemble Indis in the least.

Alanís and Tiranë had explained what they knew, and Aynëya had kissed and thanked them both. She had concluded that Alanís looked dreadful, and that they should both get some sleep and go about their duties as normal, leaving Indis to her mother.

After a short resistance, and enough "Are you sure?'s" to fill a scroll, Alanís and Tiranë had left after kissing Indis' forehead and wishing her mother farewell. The two had parted ways, Alanís leaving to her home and Tiranë heading for the training grounds.

It had not been a long walk. She passed many green forest trees, great, colourful flower patches, and beautiful ropes of Lianí vine on the way there. When she had arrived, the realisation that the area was empty was a great relief. It was hardly ever deserted, and she knew that for a fact, since her training partner, Rían, insisted on them practicing every two to three days.

Tiranë had been there for what she guessed was three hours, honing her swordsmanship skills, in the hope that she might one day be able to beat an opponent with the skill and elegance with a sword as Eragon. She had never been able to beat him, fairly, and the few times that she had, it had been because he had held back.

Tiranë was determined to catch up to the elder Rider.

Afterall, he wasn't that much older. They were both sixteen, only he was born a few months before. Eragon never missed the oppurtunity to tease her about it, though. Make that both Eragon and Turgon.

And occasionally, even Saphira.

Damn.

Would she ever grow older?

With a sigh, Tiranë resumed her fighting stance, her sword now held in her right hand, and extended infront of her. Slowly at first, she began to slice the air with her long blade, leisurely swinging it above her head, switching it from hand to hand, maneuvering her own body so it looked as though she were dancing. Then she began to pick up speed and criss-cross the sword rapidly in the space infront and around of her, adding in a few high kicks when she could.

Tiranë swung the sword in a clean line before her, bringing it down and using it to block her unseen attacker's weapon.

She grabbed the hilt with both hands and began to imagine an Urgal in front of her, stabbing and slicing at her with his scimitar. Unbidden memories of fire and blood surfaced in her mind, and Tiranë lashed out her weapon in a fit of anger.

The blade whistled as it was swung sharply to and fro, and Tiranë executed a neat backflip, landing on her feet with a thud. It had taken many hours of hard labour and a fractured arm to learn how to perform the acrocbatic move, but it had been easier for her than any other human for she was double jointed, and reasonably flexible. Not mention that she was a Rider.

Tiranë tossed the weapon into the air, and quickly reached out to grab it once more. That was another trick that had been a pain to learn.

Save for the sound of her own laboured breathing, the only other noise that could be heard was the swishing of her blade as she slashed at the imaginary Urgals around her.

She continued in this manner for what seemed to her like hours, but in reality was only half of one.

The sweat was now running freely down her forehead, and Tiranë was panting hard. Stopping, she crouched over with her hands on her thighs, sword still clutched in her right hand, watching the droplets of sweat drip onto the floor.

She continued to breathe in through her mouth, and amidst the whooshing sounds she was emitting, Tiranë heard a clapping noise behind her.

She gasped, stood up straight and turned around to see none other than Eragon leaning against a tree, watching her practise.

Had he been there the whole time?

He grinned and walked over to her. "You've improved." Tiranë noticed that he had his own sword with him.

She released her ihaled breath in a huff and rolled her eyes jokingly. "Yeah, Eragon, I have improved, seeing as how I still probably can't beat you."

"No, really, you have gotten better. That back flip was impressive," he told her.

Tiranë smiled, her eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. "Thanks. I didn't nearly break my arm for nothing, you know."

Eragon laughed. "So I see. But mine are still better," he added slyly, smirking at the expression on her face.

She punched his arm. Hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" Eragon exclaimed.

"Hmm…I wonder?" Tiranë answered, her hands mockingly her hips in a very unlike herself gesture.

"I was only joking! Geez…your punches hurt more than Roran's," He added.

Tiranë's face broke out in a grin. "Well, Rider? Are you going to stand there whinging like a child, or are you going to challenge me?"

A devilish smile resembling Tiranë's own adorned his face at those words. "If you insist, Tiranë. I challenge you to a duel. Be ready to yield."

She snorted. "I think not! Your challenge is accepted.

"Excellent," he said.

She lifted her eyebrow, but said nothing in answer.

They walked into the middle of the ring and stood a few feet apart from each other. Tiranë and Eragon simultaneously drew their weapons, and Tiranë marvelled at how Zar'roc gleamed in the sunlight. Despite its previous owners, it truly was a beautiful thing.

Tiranë balanced her blade in her hands, and drew in a deep breath, bracing herself for defeat. She looked over at Eragon to see him do the same, Zar'roc glinting as he began to swing it around, readying himself for the mock-fight.

Again, Tiranë was amazed at how easily he used his weapon. It had taken her much longer that he to grasp the concept of using a sword, and the fact stung at her pride a little. Eragon was a natural born swordsman, and she knew that when he had finished his development, he would be able to best even the most skilled of the Elves.

At that moment, he walked over to stand closer to her.

"Let us begin, unless you need a little more time to prepare for defeat," Eragon jested.

For the second time that day, Tiranë found herself rolling her eyes.

"You wish. I'm ready now, boy," she retaliated, deliberately calling him 'boy'. She knew it vexed him.

He ignored the name and lifted Zar'roc. He positioned himself in his fighting stance, and Tiranë followed his example. She gripped her sword tightly, flexing her fingers around the hilt, and kept her eyes firmly fixed on Eragon.

The two began to circle eachother slowly, eyeing the opponent's stance, assessing the way they held themselves and their blade.

Without warning, Eragon took a swing at her side, and Tiranë brought her sword down to deflect it. He certainly was fast.

They resumed circling one another.

She decided to try her luck and quickly crouched, aiming her sword for his legs.

Eragon jumped up, the blade hissing as it cut through the air underneath him. He landed on his feet with a thud, and lifted his sword to block Tiranë's sword as it attempted to slash at his ribs.

"She really has improved," he thought to himself as he saw her dodge Zar'roc as it tried to slice at her chest.

There were no words exchanged between them, for they were deeply engrossed in their mock fight. Tiranë was surprised that she had not been disarmed yet, and she sent a silent 'thankyou' to Rían for her forced training sessions.

Their duel had veered them back towards the ring of trees, and Eragon concentrated on steering himself to the right to avoid the trees. He aimed for her throat, and she brought her sword up to stop his in its path.

Unepectedly, she kicked his leg, and he stumbled. Muffling a curse, Eragon quickly reagined his balnce and threw himself to the side to miss Tiranë's stab towards his stomach.

Their fight was now a quick succession of blows, parries and thrust, and the sound of the weapons hitting eachother resounded through the arena.

Eragon barely missed a slice made for his thigh, and decided to pay Tiranë back with an aim for hers. Zar'roc flew to her thigh, not intending to harm her, for she was his friend, and was immediately halted in its path by Tiranë's blade, which had seen his intention and acted with snake-like reflexes.

Tiranë charged towards Eragon, her blade before her, and came to a stop when she was a mere inch from him. Zar'roc and Tiranë's own sword where now forming an 'X' as both Riders tried to push the other away and gain control of the duel.

Eragon saw the shine in her eyes and new that she would do whatever it took to beat him. But, being the male that he was, Eragon was not ready to accept defeat so easily. With a great heae, he pushed Tiranë from him, hardly, sending her stumbling a few feet backwards, and waited until she was balanced before he struck his blow.

He used Zar'roc to remove her blade from her temporarily slackened grip, which sent it far to the side of the area, and out of her reach.

Tiranë was furious at herself for letting him take her weapon. She would not let him win this one. She just needed to take Zar'roc, and finish this duel by using hand-to-hand combat, something at which she excelled. And she knew he knew it.

As she completed that thought, Eragon had moved closer to her, and was now trying to trip her. He kicked for her legs, and Tiranë performed another backflip, leaving Eragon to kick empty air.

She then kicked the hand that held Zar'roc. Hard. Tiranë hated to hurt her friends, but it was training. You needed to be a little rough if you are to fight in a war.

She heard Eragon hiss through his teeth, and made her move to grab Zar'roc, which she threw to lie near her own sword.

"It looks as though we will have to finish this using our own limbs, doesn't it Eragon?" She asked.

"I believe it does," he answered dryly.

Eragon knew that she would beat him. While he was ecxellent at swordplay, Tiranë was magnificent at hand-to-hand. Well, for a human anyway. He prayed that he would not go down like a fool. He had been practicing, and hoped that he had improved.

Neither of them moved, they just stood and watched the other. Tiranë noticed that Eragon was tense, which meant that he was worried. Worried that he would lose. Oh, well, he had beaten her plentiful times as well. And she silently promised him that she would try to not humiliate him.

At that moment, Eragon's clenched fist hurled itself towards her jaw. She quickly brought up her arm to keep it from breaking her bones. Eragon punched with a force unseen before when he was determined. The fact that he would do so with her made her proud, for it meant that he saw her as an equal, and not as some helpless milk-maid.

Tiranë used the arm not blocking Eragon's fist to punch his stomach. She was surprised to find that the muscles were harder than they had been before they had arrived at Ellesméra. Her face heated up.

He doubled over with a grunt, and this gave her enough time to spin around and deliver a firm kick to his lower torso which sent him sprawling to the ground.

To her surprise, Eragon kicked himself off of the ground (A:N/ You know that move that they make when they are on their backs, the one where the bend their legs and leap off the ground, landing on their feet? It's that one.) and once more prepared himself for attack.

"He's been practicing," Tiranë's mind echoed. It was true, for he certainly had improved. Only a few months before, she had been able to best Eragon with a simple blow to the stomach or high-kick to the side. Now, well, he was a lot better at the art of disabling a person without using weaponry.

Eragon clenched his fists, ready for one of his friend's unforseeable blows. It came, swiftly, but by the force of some unknown power, he was able to dodge it. And the one that came after it.

The rejuvinating feeling of not being sent to the ground was not to last, though. Eragon, being the show-off that he was, decided to execute a few impressive acrobatic tricks of his own. He ducked to avoid a quick succession of right and left hooks, before he jumped in the air, twirled and brung his leg out to catch Tiranë's abdomen.

The girl was sent back with a cry, and fell to the ground on her back with a thud. She did not move.

For the first few moments, Eragon was sure that she was jesting with him. But, when she still did not move, concern and panic began to creep their way into his mind.

He rushed to her side, fell to his knees and shook her.

"Tiranë. Tiranë, are you alright? Tiranë, get up!" He said as he gently shook her shoulder while leaning over her from his position at her side.

She lay motionless.

Eragon was now beginning to panic.

"Tiranë, wake up! Please, get up!" Eragon's voice now had a slight waver to it.

His breathing became erratic due to his panic. He continued to shake her.

All of a sudden, her eyes burst open, and her fist rapidly came up to connect with his nose. Eragon head was whipped back with the force of her blow, and his hand immediately rushed to his nose while Tiranë burst out laughing.

She sat up, arms around her middle, still laughing maniacally.

"Oh, Gods Eragon! I can not believe you fell for that one! You should have seen the look on your face!" Tiranë gasped out between uncontrollable giggles.

"That was not funny! I thought you were seriously hurt!" Eragon burst out, hand still glued to his bleeding nose.

"Yes it was! It proves you are far, far too gullible Eragon! Even my brothers never believed that trick!" Tiranë;s giggles were now less powerful giggles.

"Never do it again, Tiranë! You scared me. And I think you broke my nose."

The The laughing immediately stopped. "Oh, no. I'm sorry about that. I honestly only meant it as a joke. Let me have a look at your nose," Tiranë prompted, feeling a little guilty about his nose, which now seemed to be bleeding heavily.

"It's alright, I'll look after it at home," said Eragon, his voice sounding nasal.

"No, I want to look at it now. Don't deliberately try to make me feel bad, Eragon," Tiranë said firmly, but with a joking tone.

He sighed and removed his hand, his mouth curving into a slight smile. Tiranë cringed when she saw the blood that ran down his face and covered his hand. "Well, you deserve to feel bad, Tiranë," he stated with fake sterness.

"Oh, Eragon, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

"It's alright," he repeated. "It was a fight. The whole idea is to harm the other person."

"It was a mock-fight. I wasn't supposed to break your nose," she answered. "Let me heal it."

"Please. It hurts like Helgrind," he joked.

Tiranë laughed slightly and muttered "Waíse Heíll", her gëdwey ignasia glowing as she felt the magic flow through her.

"There. Is that all better, Eragon?" Tiranë asked, pinching his cheek as though he were a child.

"Agh, stop that. You really need to grow up." He said as he released his cheek from her death-grip.

"So do you."

Tiranë then noticed the blood covering her hand. "Ew…You should see yourself, Eragon. You look like a mess."

"I feel like one aswell."

"I hope Saphira won't be too angry with me."

"You know she will be."

"Damn."

"True."

"Yeah, well, I did break the nose of her beloved Rider…an incident for which I am sorry, though."

"I know. You have said only about thirty times."

"Ha ha. That was so funny I forgot to laugh."

"It was, wasn't it?"

Tiranë sighed. Eragon mimicked her.

"Your're a pain, Eragon."

"As are you, dear Tiranë, as are you."

"Oh, and Eragon?"

"Mhhmmm?"

"I won the duel."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Okay, fine. Why don't we say that you one the sword fight, and I one the hand-to-hand combat part."

"Deal."

"Excellent."

Tiranë lifted herself off the ground, followed by Eragon who stood and wiped his hands on his training tunic. "Darn, Eragon! After losing all that blood I'm surprised you can even stand!"

"So am I," he answered, before wiping the sticky residue from his face with the edge of his practice tunic.

"Well, I must be going. You know, scrolls to read, dictionaries to conquer, and so on. Give Saphira my regards," she bid him.

"Sure. Give my condolences to Turgon, and, I wish you luck in conquering that dictionary Oromis saw fit to assign you."

She laughed again. "Thanks."

"See you."

"Yeah, bye."

The two fellow Riders bid eachother farewell, and Tiranë left the training area alone, heading for her treehouse. She arrived to find it quiet, which meant that either Turgon was asleep or out flying.

In the meantime, she needed to get some sleep of her own.

Breaking your friend's nose was hard work.

X

Well that's it! For now. I am sorry about the amount of time it is taking me to update. Crappy computer! Anyway, read, review and enjoy people!

Sayonara,

Artanisofavalon.


	11. Far, far too long

Another chapter! Woo hoo!

Disclaimer: sighs and rubs brow I am getting tired of this. I DIDN'T TAKE MURTAGH!

X

"You broke his nose?" Turgon asked, his laughter resounding through her mind.

Tiranë sighed. "Yes, Turgon, I broke his nose…accidentally." She spoke in the ancient language to convince him that was the truth.

"If you were not speaking in the ancient language, I would have thought you were lying," Turgon said, still laughing at her recount of the day's events.

"Well, that proves that you have no trust in me whatsoever," Tiranë replied sarcastically, wiggling around in the tub to find a more comfortable position.

"Tiranë, you know perfectly well that if I had no trust in you, you would most certainly not be my Rider," Turgon told her, his voice becoming sober of any teasing note in an instant.

She smiled. "That's nice to hear."

"Yes, it's a shame that no one else was around when you found me, though," he joked, breaking into laughter at the look on her face.

"Ow! What was that for?" Turgon demanded, feeling her sharp mind dagger pierce his thoughts.

Tiranë snorted. "I wonder? I'll have you know that Eragon said the exact same thing when I punched him. That just proves that all males are alike; typical."

"No, it just proves you have something against men."

"And what do you mean by that, Turgon?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

"Right…," was the skeptical reply.

"Yes, right."

Tiranë sighed again, dipping her head under the surface of the bath water before sliding back upwards to rest at the edge of the large ceramic bowl. She reached for the bar of floral soap which rested on a small, rose tinted glass plate and began to lather her arms and shoulders, smiling in pleasure at the refreshing scent it emitted.

"Turgon?" she asked, scooping water with her hand to remove the soap residue from her lightly tanned skin.

"Yes?" He answered.

"Do you happen to know what Glaedr has planned for you and Saphira tomorrow?"

"Yes, we are learning how to distinguish dangerous weather patterns. Why?"

"No reason, just curious."

"What are you doing with Oromis?"

"To be honest, I don't know."

"Alright. I'll leave you to finish bathing."

"Okay. I'll see you when I have completed the sacred ritual of removing filth from the flesh," Tiranë joked, in a hope to cause her dragon to laugh. It pleased her when he laughed, for it meant that he was happy; and, if he was happy, she had no reason not to be so aswell.

Turgon chuckled as his head disappeared from the door to the bathing chamber. Tiranë watched him leave before she set aside the bar of jasmine soap, having finished washing her body, and reached for the small blue glass container of liquid soap, which was used to cleanse the hair. The lovely, rose smelling mixture was a much appeciated relief from using the usual soap to clean hair, as it was less capable of creating the frustrating tangles her hair seemed to acquire quite easily.

She carefully removed the pretty lid, setting it aside and scooping out a handful of the pink soap. She placed the container and the lid where they belonged and began to rub her hands through her long hair.

Soon, her hair was a large mass of soapy lather, and she ducked her head under the water to wash out the scented bubbles, massaging her scalp to help rid her head of any soap. When Tirane had finished, she lifted herself out of the pool of cooling water and wrapped the fluffy red towel which had been laid out for her around her wet body.

After she had thoroughly rubbed herself dry of any water droplets, she hurriedly dressed in a simple green tunic and soft black leggings, lacing on her boots and combing and braiding her hair afterwards.

She tidied the bathing room, dropped her filthy discarded clothing into the washing basket and walked out of the bath to where Turgon was resting on the comfortable green rug which adorned the tree house floor.

"Ah, she returns," Turgon spoke up.

"Alas, she does my Lord," Tiranë quipped, bowing in mock courtesy to the amused dragon.

"My Lord? That is an entirely new one Tiranë," he said, the usual sparkle in his eyes.

"Do you not like it, dear dragon?" Tiranë feigned a look of anxiousness.

He laughed. "To be honest, no. I would much rather you call me by my name, youngling."

"As would I, Turgon," she replied, putting an emphasis on his name.

Turgon pretended he did not hear the last statement. He merely yawned, shifting his wings before settling himself to a more comfortable position on the floor.

Tiranë walked over to where the indigo dragon was reclining and dropped herself down beside him, leaning back against his brightly scaled sides and yawning. Why was it that the action was so ridiculously contagious?

Silence reigned between the two, and Turgon lifted a wing to allow Tiranë to settle herself against his warmth, resting his tail on her lap.

"I visited Indis today," Tiranë spoke up.

"Oh? How was she?" Turgon was suddenly interested.

"Avelyn said she should awaken within the next day or so, and the wound on her head is looking well. It is amazing how quickly Elves recover," Tiranë replied.

"It is, and I am glad to hear that she is recovering. She is a nice girl," Turgon said.

"Yes she is, isn't she? Indis is quite fond of you, you know," Tiranë added.

Turgon's wings rustled in pleasure. "I like her aswell. Very much so. She is a good friend to you."

"I am glad. I knew you two would suit well as friends.

"You did?"

"Yes, I did."

Turgon exhaled deeply.

"Tiranë?"

"Yes?"

"I think the best thing to do right now is sleep. You're tired, I'm tired and we might as well admit it."

"That was random, but you're right," she agreed, snuggling up closer to him and feeling his wing encircle her.

"I know I am."

She grinned, her green eyes closed. "Turgon, you are incorrigible."

"That goes both ways my dear."

X

Lifaen stared at Alanís, shocked.

"How is she? Will she be alright?" He asked the maiden's cousin, looking into her blue eyes as though they held the answer to his question.

"She should be fine, Lifaen. Avelyn said she should awaken in a day or so. It is nothing too serious," Alanís answered.

She sighed. "I do not know how this happened. One moment she was there, with us and the next, Tiranë is telling me that she and Turgon had found her unconscious on the ground!" Alanís cried, distraught. (A/N: Remember people, Elves are very emotional. Well, I think that they are.)

Lifaen put his arms comfortingly around the maiden, resting his chin on her dark head. "I am sure she will be perfectly well in a few days," he murmured soothingly. "It was an unfortunate event that occurred and it will most certainly be forgotten once Indis awakens."

Alanís pulled out from his embrace slightly, keeping her arms around his middle. Her eyes glistened and she smiled. "Thankyou, Lifaen."

"For what?" He asked.

"For being here for me, and for the…emotional support," Alanis added.

"It was no hardship. It is what a good friend does."

Alanís nodded and pulled back out of his arms. "I am on my way to see Indis now, would you care to join me?"

"Thankyou, but I am afraid I must decline. There are some pressing…matters I must attend to. I shall visit sometime later in the day," Lifaen explained.

"Oh, I see. I shall wait for you if you wish," Alanís offered.

"Er…Actually I would like that. I shan't be too long, and if you feel like leaving, feel free to do so. Do not let me keep you," Lifaen accepted her offer.

"I shall wait all night, if that is what it takes," she said.

Lifaen laughed. "If you feel so inclined."

Alanís smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek in her friendly manner. He kissed her back, for she was like the sister he did not have.

"I will see you soon," she said.

"You shall," he confirmed.

Alanís waved her farewell, before she turned and ascended up the stairway to the healing houses, at the foot of which they had been conversing.

Lifaen planned to visit Indis later that day, but the 'matter' he needed to attend to was indeed pressing. He intended to hammer some sense into Narí before he caused more harm to the poor maiden who was now lying on a healing bed due to what Lifaen knew was Narí's foolishness. He had seen her run out of the glade, and he had also seen Narí kissing Arien. It did not take much for one to figure out the cause of Indis' distress.

Lifaen could not deny that he was angry at his friend's actions. Quite angry, in fact. He had come to think of the cheery, bubbly maiden as a very close friend, and to see her hurt was not something he had ever wished to happen.

Well, he and Narí were going to have a serious talk, and this time Lifaen was going to make sure that his friend could not weasel his way out of it. Again.

The little chat he hoped to have with his close companion was far too long over due.

Far, far too long.

X

Short, I know! I am sorry! But, please, I am having an extremely tiring week! With school, homework and preparing for my mother to return from over seas, I hardly have a few minutes to just sit and relax. Anyway, Narí will be going on one long guilt trip in ther next chapter, and…the moment that you have all been waiting for…Indis awakens. I have been taking the whole injury thing too far. I apologise for that. And, to one particular reviewer, you know who you are, to answer your question, yes, the battle of the burning plains will occur in this story, but a lot later on. I plan for this to be quite a long story. Hopefully.

Anyway, I must be off,

Bye!

artanisofavalon


	12. A fool

I'm back! Ha ha! You can't get rid of me so easily! Anyway, BEHOLD! A new chapter to add to this tale! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: **Pushes a two and-a-half-hand sword under bed with foot** Um…What was it that you said, Mr. Ah yes, the disclaimer. ** Clears throat loudly **

I hearby swear that I, artanisofavalon, do not intend to make financial gain from this story, it is merely a means of enjoying myself and pleasing the lovely people at away we go!

X

Lifaen walked briskly as he wound his way through numerous forest paths to Narí's quarters, curtly but politely replying to any greetings sent in his direction. He ducked under the regal branches of a thick cedar tree and caught sight of Narí's polished front door. There was light from an Elven lantern illuminating through the impressive stained glass window beside the intricate front door, a sure sign that the Elf in question was present in his living area.

Lifaen could not decide whether or not that the fact pleased him, for at the moment, he was more vexed at his companion than he had remembered being for quite a long while. He intended to sit and have a firm discussion with Narí concerning Indis, heatedly vowing to himself that if Narí continued to behave in this ridiculous fashion, he would use whatever force necessary to get him to speak with her.

He walked up to the stairway leading to his friend's house, and cleared it two-steps at a time. He turned to the left and knocked swiftly onto the glossy surface of the door upon reaching his destination.

A few moments passed and there was no answer from Narí.

Finally, after what seemed to Lifaen's impatient mind a lifetime, the glossy front door opened, revealing a tired looking Narí. Judging by his somewhat ruffled hair and unlaced tunic, it was clear to Lifaen he had been sleeping. An expression of calm composure involuntarily flitted over his facial features as he stood infront of his closest friend.

Lifaen spoke before Narí could open his mouth. "Good day, Narí. Might I come inside? There is something of great importance that I wish to discuss with you."

Narí seemed to find his voice. "Yes, of course," he answered, his brow creasing with his small frown.

"Excellent," Lifaen said, pushing past Narí and into the Elf's suite without another word. His dark eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail of the wide chamber. There were lavishly created fairths lining the walls, two intricate silver vases that rested on tables at either side of the room which housed a variety of exotic and lovely flowers, a beautiful blue woven carpet that depicted a scene of the ocean so beloved to the Elves, and a large oaken chest which Lifaen knew held Narí's magnificent weaponry

He paused in his perusal of his companion's house, and abruptly turned to face the bemused looking Elf.

"How may I be of service to you, Lifaen?" Narí asked, after clearing his throat.

Lifaen did not answer the question, he merely watched Narí with calculating eyes. Neither of them spoke, only stared at each other, Lifaen expressionless and Narí confused at his friend's unusual behaviour.

After a time, Lifaen said, "Nari, I am going to be perfectly straight forward with you. Have you sought an audience with Indis yet?" He asked the question because he wished to know whether Narí was aware of Indis' state, or if he was just being more cold-hearted than Lifaen would have ever believed him capable of being.

Narí sighed. "How many times must I tell you, Lifaen? I have not spoken to her concerning this, and nor do I intend to."

"You had better speak with her, Narí. I am sick and I am tired of this ridiculous and unnecessary hurt you are inflicting upon both yourself and Indis," Lifaen spoke sharply.

"Tell me, Lifaen, have you come here only to tell me what you have told me countless time before? For if you did, then you clearly do not know when to relent," Narí replied, his tone similar to Lifaen's.

"Narí, I will not relent until I see that you have begun to think rationally once more," Lifaen said dryly.

Narí sighed and shook his head, walking over to where two goblets and a pitcher of wine sat atop a circular table. He poured himself a glass and offered one to Lifaen whilst he drank. Of course, as he knew he would, Lifaen declined.

"Suit yourself," he carelessly said, draining his first cup and rounding on the second.

Lifaen knew that the wine was one of Narí's ways of releasing himself from the troubles of his life, if only temporarily. Though Narí did not show it, there was a terrible yearning for something more than meaningless dalliances and pretty maidens to lay behind his carefree demeanor, this much Lifaen also knew.

Lifaen sighed as he watched Narí down his cup and plop ungracefully into a cushioned seat.

"She has been injured, Narí," Lifaen said at last.

Narí froze, his goblet to his lips, looking straight at his friend.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"Indis, she has been hurt. She tripped and hit her head on a stone when after she left Alanís' party. She is unconscious in the healing houses at the moment," was the quiet answer.

Narí almost dropped his cup in horror. Indis had been injured? How? When? A combination of similar thoughts flitted through his mind until he remembered what had occurred that night. He recalled Indis trying to stem her tears, tears at his cruel behaviour, and flee from the forest green. The realisation that it was most likely his fault was almost like a physical blow. Narí felt sick.

"Well? Is she alright?" He asked frantically, his self-disgust threatening to choke him.

Lifaen spun around to face him, and although his expression was calm, Narí could see the furious glint in his eye that clearly interpreted his anger.

"Why do you not go and visit her for yourself?" He demanded. "This whole occurrence, after all, is the result of your pathetic cowardice and stubborness! I saw what happened that night in the green, and I will tell you now that if you were not my closest friend I would have struck you," the words were harshly spoken.

Narí's hands covered his face. He did not contradict Lifaen's words, for he knew them to be true and well-deserved.

"This is all my fault," he groaned, regretting his foolish treatment of the dark-haired maiden.

"Yes, Narí, it most certainly is your fault! I hope you feel proud of yourself, for you have undoubtedly succeeded in causing Indis to avoid you for the rest of her days. I do not think she will even want to look at you after this!"

"Lifaen, please, tell me, is she badly injured?" Narí begged.

Lifaen sighed. "I have been told that she will recover," he answered shortly.

Narí breathed a sigh of knee-weakening relief. He would not have been able to live with his guilt had she been seriously hurt. He did not speak.

Neither did Lifaen, not for a long while.

When the tall Elf did address Narí, it was to say, "Narí, I will say this once, and once only. You will visit Indis, and you will speak with her. If you do not, I will bind you and drag you to her myself. Now, I am due to see her, as I have promised Alanís. If and when you decide to grow-up and act like the adult you are, I strongly suggest you follow my example and cease behaving as though you are twenty-year-old Elfling," Lifaen stated, although it seemed more like ordered to Narí.

Narí nodded his head where it rested in his hands.

"Good, I see that I have hammered some sense into you," he said, his gaze fixed on the self-loathing Elf before him. Lifaen's hard demeanor softened and he walked over to Narí, laying a hand on his shoulder. "It pains me to see you thus, my friend. I only wish for you to be joyous in your life. With Indis, that is possible, for I know that she loves you. Please, I am pleading with you, go to see her. Speak with her. Explain yourself to her. She is compassionate, and will understand," the comforting words had little effect on Narí, but he was grateful for Lifaen's support.

"I have been a fool," he said at last.

"You have. But it is not too late to correct yourself."

There was only silence as Narí stared into nothingness, eyes glistening.

Lifaen patted his companion's shoulder for the final time. "I must leave, Narí. I wish to visit Indis, and I believe Alanís is waiting for me."

Narí nodded but did not face him.

"I shall see you later, my friend," he said.

With the words spoken, Lifaen left Narí's house, closing the door quietly behind him and beginning to make his way to the healing chambers.

Narí did not acknowledge Lifaen's departure, for he felt as though he were drowning in his own guilt at his mistreatment of the one he treasured.How could he have been so stupid as to think that isolating himself from Indis would cause his love for her to wane?

Tears welled in his eyes and dripped slowly down his face. He felt disgusted with himself. Indis was sure to never wish to speak with him again.

Lifaen was right. Lifaen had been right all along. He should have spoken to the lovely maiden; he should have listened. And now his chances of doing that very thing were as small as his grief was great.

The image of her sparkling eyes flashed through his thoughts as he sobbed like a child.

X

Well, that's another chapter completed. If you think that Nari is not suffering enough, then please tell me, and I will be sure to triple his grief. If you also think that the chapters are too short, then inform me of it and I will be sure to write lengthier ones.

I am afraid I must be off, for my cat seems to be choking on a hair ball of some sort,

Bye!

Artanisofavalon.


	13. Awakening

I'm back! Have a nice read (please have a nice read!).

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am simply writing for the joy of it. Have a nice read!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am simply writing this my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers. It all belongs to either Christopher Paolini or John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. That is all.

Onwards! Onwards I say!

X

(Okay, people, I would just like you to know, that this is the day after Lifaen had that 'little' chat with our lovesick Narí.)

Indis hurt.

Badly.

An insistent throbbing was pounding in her head, and that along with the rather unpleasant taste in her mouth was left her feeling less than comfortable. She regained consciousness in a manner that seemed to her excruciating.

A ray of sunlight was streaming in from what was surely a window and a light breeze was wafting through the room, rustling the white fabric of the curtains half-covering the window. The twittering sound of forest birds fell gently onto her sensitive ears.

Indis kept her eyes closed and listened to distinguish where she was. On a bed, perhaps? There were soft sheets covering her lower torso, and she could tell that she was wearing a nightgown.

There was someone holding her hand.

Nightgown? Bed? Was she not at Alanís' party?

The memories then came flooding back.

Her, dancing at the forest glade, laughing with her cousin and Tiranë, enjoying herself.

Seeing Narí kiss Aríen.

The recollection threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Her groggy mind pushed away the thought.

What had happened then?

Indis struggled to remember, before it came rushing back to her.

She saw herself, in her minds eye, foolishly rush away from the forest glade into the forest. Indis remembered that she had been weeping ridiculously, and with her blurred vision, had not seen the thick buttress root protruding from the ground.

She had fallen, and felt a brief moment of sharp pain before she had…fainted?

Yes. She must have fainted, for there was light falling onto her eyes. Alanis' celebration had been in the evening.

But where was she?

Who was clutching at her hand?

Indis, with great difficulty, pried open her eyes. The sunlight stung her eyes a little, causing them to involuntarily flutter shut and open again, but she fought against it. When her vision had returned to its normal state, Indis surveyed her surroundings.

The room she was in had stark white walls and was very plain. At one side of the chamber was a cedar table that housed a pitcher of water and a goblet, and at the other was a larger table that was laden with herbs and what seemed to be containers of poultices and creams.

Medical supplies.

She was in the healing houses.

Of course, it all made sense. But now that she had discovered her location Indis was loath to be where she was. Since she had been a child, Indis has despised the houses of healing, with their dull rooms and even more dull healers. Everything there was clean and sterile, so different from her beloved woods.

Indis, mulling over her thoughts, turned her head slowly to the side, trying to avoid any pain, though not being able to keep the throbbing at bay, and saw that Vanir and Alanís were sitting side by side on a small plain couch, eyes unfocused, Vanir holding her hand.

A small smile graced her expression at the sight, reminding her of the times they had shared together at children, when she had usually woken up to the sight of her cousins asleep next to her. The smile stretched the previously unused muscles of her face, leaving her cheeks stinging.

Carefully, so as not to wake them, because, if she knew them, which she most certainly did, they had been up for a long while caring for her, Indis slid her hand from Vanir's and gently placed his own on his lap; at least she could move her hands without difficulty. Her legs seemed to her to be numb.

She flexed her fingers, trying to help her blood to circulate properly once more, and breathed deeply, still tired from her hours of sleeping. The sound must have been louder than she realised, for Vanir's dark eyes suddenly cleared and looked at her confusedly.

"Indis? You're awake! How do you feel?" He stated, his voice ecstatic, changing from surprised, to delighted and finally to worried.

Indis' voice was hoarse and raspy from disuse as she answered. Or tried to. "I-I hurt. Vanir, w-what hap-pened?" Indis discovered speaking caused her additional pain, as it scratched her throat.

"Shh, Indis, there is no need to worry yourself about that now," Vanir murmured in a manner far unlike him. He reached over to grasp the last cupful of Avelyn's tea. "Here, drink this," he urged, lifting her head and pressing the porcelain cup to her lips. "It will lessen your pain, cousin."

Indis silently obeyed, discovering that what Vanir had claimed was indeed true: the herbal tea dulled the pounding in her head considerably. When she had consumed the last mouthful, Vanir put the cup aside and gently lowered her head back to her pillow.

"Thank you, Vanir." She no longer stuttered when she spoke, though her voice was still hoarse.

"'Twas no hardship, Indis," he answered. "There is no need to thank me."

Indis closed her eyes for a moment. She reopened them, and looked over to where Alanis was resting.

"She was here all night, wasn't she?" Indis asked.

"Yes. She was. We both were. Your mother left but a few hours past," Vanir explained.

"Oh. How was she? My mother?" Indis enquired.

"Aunt seemed stricken, and looked less composed than I had ever seen her. She was very distraught over this, Indis. We all were," Vanir spoke in quiet tones, allowing his dozing cousin to acquire her much needed and deserved respite.

"I am sorry, Vanir," Indis whispered.

His brow furrowed. "For what, cousin? For injuring yourself? It was inevitable, and although I am not pleased that it occurred, you are safe now, and that is all that is of importance," Vanir stated this to her in the same tone of voice he had used when they were younger; the responsible, older cousin who saw it as his duty to protect and guide the younger family members.

Memories surfaced in her mind, bringing a smile to her lips. "Vanir? Do you remember when you broke your legs falling out of that tree? The one your father specifically ordered you not to climb?"

Vanir brow cleared, and a mouth formed a grin. "Yes. I most certainly do. Mother was hysterical, and I remember that father had looked ready to skin me alive. Thíro could not stop laughing."

Indis laughed, but it soon became a cough. When her throat had settled, Indis looked at Vanir and sighed. "I can not believe it has been so long. You are all grown up, Vanir."

"So have you, Indis. Your nose seems to have gotten smaller as well," he joked.

"My nose was never large!" Indis tried to make her voice sound stern and convincing.

"Yes, it was," Vanir retorted, trying to bring colour back into Indis pale cheeks.

"Hmph. Some cousin you are, Vanir Haldthin," Indis said, mock angry.

They continued their friendly jibes until they heard Alanís stir beside Vanir. Her wide blue eyes re-focused and she lifted her arms upwards to stretch before she caught sight of Indis, and stopped in mid-yawn.

"Indis? You're awake! How do you feel?" Alanís spoke, changing tones just as Vanir had. It amused both Vanir and Indis that Alanís would use the exact word choice that Vanir had upon first awakening.

"I am better, Alanís," Indis spoke.

"That is excellent, cousin. You had us so worried! Are you sure you are alright?" The questions left Alanís' pretty mouth in quick succession.

"I am fine, Alanís. Only tired," Indis replied, for she was indeed tired.

"Oh. You should rest then," Alanís spoke as though she were Indis' mother. And then she rounded on Vanir. "Why did you not wake me, Vanir? Why did you let me sleep?"

Vanir held up his arms, palm facing outwards. "Peace, cousin. I only wished for you to receive respite. You were tired."

"Well, alright, so I was tired. But I am still annoyed," Alanís'creased brow smoothed out slightly.

"Alanís, you are always annoyed," Vanir said.

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are, trust me."

Indis smiled at this. The two always seemed to be arguing. They continued in that manner for what seemed a long while until Indis bade them to stop.

"Indis, Vanir and I will leave you to sleep. I will fetch your parents, and we will return as soon as we are able. Is that all right with you? Or would you like one of us to stay by your side?" Alanís asked her with concern in her eyes.

"No, that is fine, cousin. Go and rest, I shall be fine alone," Indis forced a smile as spoke; she was quite tired, despite being unconscious for the past two days.

"Alright," Alanís relented. "But if you require anything, have one of the healer send us a message and we will be there."

"I will."

"Good," Vanir joined in the conversation.

Vanir and Alanís bade their cousin farewell, and, kissing her forehead, left her in her solitude, closing the door quietly behind them.

Indis sighed, grateful to be alone to think. She loved her cousins, there was no mistake concerning that, but the two could be a handful when they felt so inclined.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, and willed herself to sleep, feeling sore and tired and just a little sad…

Indis fell into slumber dreaming of a certain elf's soft kisses.

X

"I do not think that leaving her unattended was a very smart thing to do. You know that she detests the healing houses," Alanís fussed as they followed the forest trail to Indis' families' home.

Vanir sighed. "Alanís, for the last time: Indis shall be perfectly fine without us there. There are healers literally swarming the place, and she is asleep. And I do not believe that she will be able to jump out of her sickbed and demand to be escorted to her house. You saw how weak she was," Vanir said, hoping to ease his cousin's worries.

"You are right, but…" She trailed off, looking in the direction of the houses of healing.

Vanir gripped her shoulders in a brotherly fashion and looked into her eyes. "I know that you are concerned for her, I am as well, but she will be fine. Avelyn will most likely allow her to return home today, and if not, tomorrow. You will be able to fuss over her constantly then."

Alanís giggled. "You are right. I am worrying myself over nothing. I will try to stop."

Vanir kissed her forehead. "Good. Now, let us find Aunt Aynëya. She will no doubt wish to be informed of her daughter's awakening."

Alanís returned his kiss by giving him a peck on the cheek. "Yes, let's. And Vanir, if you think that I am unnecessarily worrying over Indis, wait until you see Aunt's reaction and attitude towards the situation."

He groaned. "Honestly, I do not wish to be anywhere in sight when she is with Indis."

"I concur."

"Come, let's make haste. We have a fair distance to go and I want to return as soon as possible."

"So do I," Alanís agreed.

With that, the two cousins increased their walking speed and briskly followed the mossy forest trail to Indis' parents' house.

X

Aynëya was sick with worry over her daughter.

Although Avelyn had spoken to her and assured her that Indis was, thankfully, not injured gravely and would make a full recovery, the maiden was her daughter and Aynëya had never been able to bear seeing any of her children injured.

Her sons, Thíro and Saeríl, were warriors who were currently at extended training in Osilon, and who had also been subject to a large number of injuries, ranging from bruises to broken bones. It had not pleased her when they had chosen the warrior's life, but it was what they wanted, and their happiness was what mattered to her.

They were due to return home on leave that very week.

That news would no doubt have pleased Indis to no end, for she loved her brothers dearly, and they did her. But she was injured at present, and the knowledge brought tears to Aynëya's eyes.

Aynëya placed the blue tunic she was folding in the woven basket, and lifted a pair of her mate's leggings into her hands to fold. She was preparing the now empty chambers in her house for the arrival of her sons, and had placed fresh linens and a pitcher of water in Indis' room, so that they were ready for her when she was released from the healer's care. Although Indis lived in her own cottage, much to her parent's dismay, Aynëya intended to keep her daughter at home with her for at least two weeks before Indis allowing her to return to her own home.

She settled the basket of now folded clothes at her ample hip, and made her way to the upper storey of her house, climbing the stairs with her flawless grace. She passed each chamber in the house, placing a specific bundle of clothes on the newly made bed in every room.

When she had completed her task, she passed Thíro's chamber, and stepped inside. It's walls were were wrought out of dark, polished timber, and there were drawings and poems lacing the smooth walls. Thíro was her oldest son, and was extremely talented at drawing and painting, even for an elf.

Aynëya did not know why she was inside her son's room, but now that she was there, she was overcome with a great sense of happiness, for he boys would be returning home. She had not seen them for over six months, and for her that was an incredibly long time.

The tall elf woman surveyed the pictures on the walls as she mulled through her thoughts, and a particular one caught her attention. It was of Indis, drawn when her daughter was considerably younger. The picture portrayed her as a young elf girl, at the brink of becoming an adult, with flowers woven into her dark locks, and a lovely smile gracing her lips.

It was exquisitely created, every detail perfect, and in the gentle lines of Indis' young face, Thíro's love for his sister could be clearly seen. Aynëya drew a hand over the drawing, being careful to not damage it, knowing how precious it and the every other work in the room was to her son.

Aynëya, with a small sigh, left Thíro's room, basket resting against her hip. She slowly climbed down the wooden stairs and replaced the basket in the laundry corner before moving into the kitchen to prepare a pot of sweet blueberry tea.

She was mixing the boiled water with the tea when a knock sounded at her front door. The ceramic teapot was set aside with a thump as Aynëya left it to see to her visitors.

The front door opened, revealing Alanís and Vanir standing outside, side-by-side.

"Hello, my dears. Come in, come in," Aynëya bade them, surprised by their visit.

Alanís and Vanir smiled, before greeting her with a kiss to the cheek and a respectful "Hello, Aunt."

Aynëya ushered them inside, closing the door shut behind them and asking the two, "How are you, my darlings?" Aynëya dearly loved the two elves. They had grown up with her daughter and had been like children to her.

"We are well, Aunt. How fare you?" Vanir asked the woman politely, Alanís looking intently towards her at his words.

"I have been better, Vanir. Would you like some tea? I have just brewed a pot," she offered.

"If it were not too much trouble, Aunt," Alanís answered for both of them.

"Of course not."

Aynëya led the younger elves into her kitchen and sat them down, placing a plate of hazelnut butter muffins and a bowl of strawberries in front of them while she poured the tea into small, pretty cups, which she set in front of each of the two, saving one for herself.

Vanir plucked a soft muffin from the plate and bit into it. "These are delicious."

"Thank you, my dear," Aynëya said.

Alanís sipped her tea silently, blowing on the dark liquid to cool it. An uncomfortable silence filled the air for a few moments and was broken by Alanís setting her cup down onto its saucer and speaking to Aynëya.

"Aunt, we were with Indis this morning. She woke, we spoke to her," Alanís spoke softly.

Aynëya's eyes whipped to Alanís'. "Oh! That is wonderful! Was she alright?"

"She was perfectly fine, Aunt. She said she was a little sore, and that her head pained her. I gave her the rest of Avelyn's herbal mixture, which seemed to have helped. She is asleep at present," Vanir answered in place of Alanís, taking a gulp of his blueberry tea afterwards.

Aynëya's hand had flown to her eyes in relief. "Oh, that is wonderful! I do not remember a time when I have ever been so relieved!"

"We came here to tell you. Vanir and I are returning to the healing houses, and we knew that you would want to know of Indis' condition and join us," Alanís said.

"Thank you, my darlings. You cannot possibly guess how much this means to me, nor how relieved I am," Aynëya voiced her gratitude. "Let us finish our tea. Indis is, as you said, asleep at the moment, and it would not do for either of you to collapse from hunger now, would it?"

The two smiled and Alanís reached for a muffin, biting into it and complimenting the extremely pleasant taste. "_Vanir was correct in his assumption_," She thought. "_It is delicious."_

Alanís suddenly remembered an important question she wished to ask her aunt, one that she had not thought about due to Indis' injury.

"Aunt, what news have you of Thíro and Saeríl?" Alanís had been literally itching to ask the question.

Vanir immediately became alert. "Yes, Aunt. How fare they?" He added.

Aynëya smiled. "They are both doing well, from what they wrote to me. They are returning to Ellesméra within the week on leave."

"That is wonderful! It has been so long without them," Alanís grinned.

A duplicate grin broke out on Vanir's face. "That most certainly is wonderful. I have not argued with Saeríl for far too long."

Aynëya laughed. "Yes, although I do not know whether that is a good or bad thing."

"I have to agree, Aunt," Alanís concurred.

"I can not say that I do not know what you mean," Vanir relented. "But, it is good to have them at home again. They have been absent for too long."

"Far too long," Alanís agreed.

"They have. Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you Vanir. It is a letter from Saeríl. I received it a few days ago, but I have had no chance to deliver it to you," Aynëya told Vanir.

"It is of no consequence, Aunt. May I see it, please?"

"Of course you can, my dear. It is yours. Please excuse me for a moment to find it," Aynëya said, standing from her chair and walking out of the room.

Alanís took a strawberry from the bowl and bit out a portion of it.

"That went reasonable well," Vanir interrupted the silence.

"It did."

"I wonder if Indis will be allowed to return home today," Vanir stated.

"She might. I hope she will. At least she's awake now," Alanís answered.

"That is true… Alanís?"

"Yes?"

"Are you excited about Thíro and Saeríl coming back to Ellesméra?"

"Yes! I cannot wait! Of course, I plan to stitch all of their leggings and tunics shut because they have been out of the city for so long."

Vanir chuckled. "I should warn them."

"If you do, then you will become victim to the same treatment."

"I am quaking where I stand, cousin."

"So you should be."

At that moment, Aynëya returned, an envelope held lightly in her porcelain hand. She handed it to Vanir, who received it from her with murmured thanks.

"Have you finished your tea?" Aynëya asked.

"We have," Alanís answered.

"Could you help me clear the table, Alanís?"

"You have no need to ask, Aunt."

Aynëya and Alan's cleared the table of the empty cups and placed the muffins in the cupboard where the belonged.

"Just leave them there for now, dear," Apnea instructed Alan's, who obeyed and placed the ceramic crockery onto a bench in the kitchen.

Once finished, Alan's asked her aunt. "Would you like to leave for the healing houses now, Aunt?"

"I would, Alan's," Apnea said.

"Alright. We could go right now, unless you need to retrieve something," Alan's looked at her aunt as she spoke.

"Actually, I would like to fetch my shoes. Would you mind waiting for a moment?"

"No, no. We will wait."

Aynëya was gone for but an instant before she returned with a pair of black shoes of sturdy cloth covering her feet.

"Are you both ready?" Vanir asked.

"Yes, we are," Aynëya said.

"Then let us go," Vanir urged.

The trio left Aynëya warm home and thread their way through Ellesméra to the healing houses. The brightly coloured flowers and tall trees surrounding them would not allow their journey to be dull as they walked amidst the world of life and sound.

Aynëya could not help the feeling of utter joy and relief that crashed over her as they walked to where she knew her daughter lay sleeping safely.

X

The inside of Oromis' hut was peacefully quiet as Eragon and Tiranë sat practicing the Líduen Kvaedhí. The only sound to be heard was the scratching of the pens on paper as the two Riders diligently copied the elegant characters onto the razor thin expanse of the white sheet of paper before them.

Oromis sat on a stool opposite them, a bottle of ink and a brush laid out on the table in front of him as he expertly painted a detailed depiction of Alagaësia onto the paper of a slim scroll. The elf was silent; the only sound he emitted was the calming 'whoosh' of his even breathing.

The dragons were under the strict tutelage of Glaedr for the morning, and were spending the day learning how to perform complex maneuvers whilst in mid-air.

Tiranë concentrated on her letters, writing each of the characters as neatly and precisely as she was able, and marveling at the extent to which she had improved compared to when she had first started her training with Oromis. It was truly remarkable, although she was not yet perfect at the lovely art of elvish literature.

Beside her, Eragon was also taking care with his letters. Tiranë knew that he was determined to succeed and prove himself to be a worthy Rider, despite his 'disability'. Tiranë was not overly fond of the term.

She shifted on her stool, positioning herself more comfortably and resumed practicing the Líduen Kvaedhí. A strand of dark her fell before her eyes, obscuring her view, and she impatiently pushed it behind her slightly tapered ear with her free hand.

They continued in that manner for another hour, before Oromis set down his elegantly wrought brush and bade the two Riders to stop.

"Today," Oromis spoke, "I would like the two of you to resume your practices with a fairth. Your last attempt went reasonably well judging by the fact that you were both beginners in the art, but I would have you both try you skills at it again, and see how and if you have improved." Tiranë noticed that Oromis deliberately avoided the incident involving Arya, and caught sight of Eragon's reddened face and neck.

The elf instructed them to take their stools and accompany him outside of his simple home. They seated themselves under the shade of a huge pine tree and Oromis handed each of them a fairth.

"This slate is impregnated with enough ink for you to be able to form any combination of colours. Concentrate on your desired image and recite the incantation I taught to you the last time we attempted to make a fairth," Oromis told them.

With Oromis' tall frame standing before them, assessing their progress, Tiranë let her green eyes wander around the clearing where the elf's hut was situated. There were many beautiful things worthy of being magically painted onto the cold slab of ceramic, but Tiranë could find nothing that inspired her.

A white hyacinth gleamed in the morning light, releasing its floral scent into the air, but even that failed to stir something within her.

Tiranë pictured whatever she could think of in her mind to no avail, until she thought of her beloved dragon. She smiled as she remembered the way his dark scales glittered in the light.

Focusing on the fairth, Tiranë recited the words required to create the image and watched the colours slither over the slate, forming the figure of a large dark purple being: Turgon.

It was a slightly blurred picture, but to Tiranë it was beautiful none-the-less. It showed Turgon in mid-flight, his wings spread out and the light shining against his body, shimmering when it reflected off his scales.

Oromis walked over to her to inspect her artwork.

He nodded. "Good. You are improving."

Tiranë brightened at the praise and reached for the fresh fairth Oromis handed her. "Try again, Tiranë. Remember, practice and you will progress."

She laid it on her lap and once more concentrated on clearing her mind and focusing the flow of magic within her to a single object. Over the next hour, Tiranë had created three fairths, each depicting a different object or place. On one, Tiranë had chosen her original home of Therinsford as her inspiration. On the others, she had painted the white hyacinth and Tialdarí hall. Arya had been kind enough to take her and Turgon on a tour of her beautiful home when she had first arrived at Ellesméra.

Tiranë thought that her first fairth was the most well wrought of them all.

She looked over at Eragon to see what he had created. His fairth showed a picture of Ellesméra as they had fist viewed it, the beautiful trees, the exotic flowers, the elves themselves. It was much better than his first time and also of a better quality than hers. That boy could best her at everything.

"I like your fairth," Tiranë commented.

"Thanks. I had hoped it would be better than my last attempt," Eragon said.

"It is. I like it."

"Yours is pretty good too."

"Really? Thank you."

"Your welcome. How fares Turgon?"

"He is well. He gives his condolences. What about Saphira? You haven't bored her to death with your endless chatter, have you?"

Eragon rolled his eyes. "No, she is fine. She told me to give you her regards or face the overwhelming wrath of one of the dragon kin."

"Your nose feel better, Eragon?"

Eragon grimaced. "Much, no thanks to you."

"Why you ungrateful lout!" Tiranë laughed. "Need I remind you, that if it were not for me, you would have bled to death and shriveled up like a sun dried apple."

"If it were not for you I would not have bled in the first place!" He grinned.

"Well…that is true…" Tiranë acknowledged.

"Of course it is. When have I ever lied?"

"Pft. Do not make me laugh."

"You? Laugh?"

Tiranë punched his arm.

"Ow! What is it with you and crippling me?"

She chuckled, and punched him again.

"Quit it!"

"Make me." Tiranë poked him in the ribs.

"What is your problem?" Eragon cried out as she dug her bony fingers into his sides.

"It is you who has the problem, oh Eragon!" She giggled.

"That's it!" Eragon said, grasping her arms lightly and shoving his fingers into her armpits. The fairths had fallen carelessly onto the ground, but thankfully had not shattered. The god's bless the elves and their magic.

"Eek! Eragon, stop!"

"Never!"

"I command you to unhand me, you fiend!"

"Fiend?"

"Please, stop!"

"I am afraid I can not acquiesce to your request, my Lady!"

Eragon's fingers mercilessly tickled her under arms, not allowing her a moment to breathe. Tiranë could not stop laughing, and her air supply was now cutting short.

"Eragon…Need…To…Breathe," Tiranë gasped between ceaseless giggles, face now beet-red.

"Fine, I will release you. But only if you consent to refrain from punching me."

"Alright, alright! I consent!"

"Excellent." Eragon removed his hands from the pit of her arms abruptly, and Tiranë let out a sigh of relief, gasping in gulps of air and willing her sides to stop aching.

"Ow," she said weakly.

"Ha! Serves you right, Tiranë."

"OW."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

"Sorry does not cut it, Eragon. Trust me, there will be revenge," Tiranë promised, smirking, now almost recovered from her painful experience at the mercy of Eragon's fingers.

"Damn."

"Right you are."

At that moment, Oromis stepped back outside. "Come," he bade, "The dragons return."

Tiranë and Eragon looked at each other then leapt to their feet, replacing the fairths onto their stools before rushing to Oromis' side, eager to greet their dragon after a long morning.

The booming thud of their wings could be discerned as they hovered in the air, gliding gracefully to the ground and landing with a large 'thump'.

Eragon jogged to Saphira and Tiranë walked over to where Turgon was standing, wise eyes turned in her direction.

"_I have missed you, youngling_," he said to her, brushing her cheek with his nose as she walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"_I have missed you too, Turgon_," Tiranë replied.

"_How were your lessons, Tiranë? You did not drive Oromis through Ellesméra and back again?" _

"_No, I do not believe I did."_

"_That is an accomplishment, youngling."_

They moved over to where the others were standing and Tiranë walked forward to greet Glaedr.

She placed her fingers to her lips and said, "_Welcome back, Ebrithíl. I trust you had an interesting lesson."_

"_That we did, young Shur'tugal_," Glaedr's deep voice rumbled in her mind.

She conversed with the golden dragon for a few more moments before she walked over to Saphira, who looked as though she were speaking with Eragon mentally.

"_Greetings, Saphira_," Tiranë said cheerfully.

"_Greetings, Tiranë_," Saphira answered, licking the girl's cheek. "_How was your lesson?"_

"_It was very intriguing_," Tiranë replied looked at Saphira as innocently as she could. The dragon did not seem to believe her. Saphira huffed and seemed to be raising an eyebrow, although how that were possible for a dragon was beyond Tiranë.

Tirane broke out into a grin. _"Honestly? It was seemingly endless_."

"_That's better_."

Eragon had been silent so far. "_Er…I am feeling slightly left out here_."

"_You are not the only one_," Turgon concurred, walking to them.

Tiranë raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Eragon and Turgon asked simultaneously.

"Oh, nothing," answered Tiranë.

They spoke idly for a while about random things, before Oromis gave them permission to leave.

"You may now leave if you wish," the elf said, Glaedr seated beside him. "I am well aware that you are both tired, and I am sure that you would enjoy the opportunity to receive some well-deserved rest after the day's events."

"Thank you, Master," Eragon and Tiranë replied, the dragons echoing the words mentally.

Tiranë respectfully twisted her arm over her sternum in acknowledgement of the great golden dragon, and bade him a mental farewell. Eragon imitated the gesture.

Saphira, with a curt statement, lifted her great blue bulk off into the air and flew out of sight. Tiranë noticed how Turgon's eyes followed her and smirked. "_Well, well, well. It_ _seems as though somebody is in love_," she thought to herself, taking care not to let anyone penetrate her mental barriers and read the thought.

"Perfect," muttered Eragon. "She left me here."

Tiranë laughed. "Give my regards to Folkvír."

Eragon groaned, and Tirane continued to chuckle as she mounted Turgon and shot off into the air.

"_I'll see you later, Eragon_," she told him using her mind.

"_Later_," he agreed.

Were Turgon large and strong enough, Tiranë would have offered Eragon a ride, but her dragon was not able to support two heavy beings; unfortunately for one young Carvahall man.

And, just for the record, she quite enjoyed tormenting her fellow Rider.

It was…fun.

X

Another chapter! And this one was considerably longer, my longest, I believe. I hope you enjoyed, and remember people, the more reviews, the more motivation, and more motivation equals the next chapter being posted as quickly as possible!

Farewell,

Artanisofavalon.


	14. Important!

I am so sorry that I have not posted in so long! It is my stupid computer and my even more stupid internet connection which have kept me from doing so. Please do not think that I am abandoning the story, for I most certainly am not…I love my characters too much for that. Anywho, the new chapter will be up by either today or tomorrow. If you have ANY ideas or questions whatsoever, please do not hesitate to ask or inform me, because I will GLADLY take them into consideration.

Have a lovely day/night/afternoon,

Your's sincerely,

Artanisofavalon.


	15. Mystery Maiden

A new chapter! Joy. I have decided to have a little Tirane-Vanir one-on-one in this chapter, and…we meet Indis' brothers!

Disclaimer: Look, I love Eragon like a fat kid loves cake, but I still do not own him.

Let the games begin…

The aromatic liquid was downed in one swift movement, and the cup set sharply aside while Indis cringed at the incredibly sweet herbal flavour. It trickled down her throat, warming her chest and slowly disappearing along with its unique taste. Indis released a relieved sigh.

Avelyn nodded her head approvingly. "Good. Very good. At least you are able to keep the tea down. That is a very positive sign," she said, assessing Indis with her sharp eyes.

Aynëya exhaled a pent up sigh of utter relief. "That is wonderful. Now we will at last be able to remove this unfortunate incident from our memories," she said, motherly tenderness present within the depths of her eyes as she smoothed a slim hand over her daughter's dark head.

"Thank goodness," Alanís added, smiling and sliding Indis' hand into her own.

"It most certainly is fortunate for you to have made such a recovery, Indis. But, to be sure of your condition, I would advise you to spend a final night within the houses of healing," Avelyn advised, the trademark calm, serious expression of a healer present on her fair face.

Aynëya frowned, but complied. "If that is what is necessary. But, I can not say that I was not keen on the prospect of her returning home."

Avelyn's features softened as she smiled. "I know, Aynëya, but it is only for one further night. After that, if all is well, Indis is all yours."

"I certainly hope so," Indis' mother replied.

"It will be nice to have her again with us," Alanís murmured, still clutching sisterly at her cousin's hand.

Avelyn directed her gaze at the blue-eyed Elf- maiden, but did not retaliate. Instead, she said, "I shall boil another pot of the herbal tea, and I expect you to drink it all, Indis. I am aware that it may not have the most pleasant flavour, but it is indeed very helpful with pain and headaches," her hand grasped the handle of the ceramic pot at Indis' side. "Now, if you will excuse me, ladies. I should not be too long. Try to relax, Indis, it would not do to put strain upon yourself." With that, Avelyn nodded to them and murmured a polite farewell before she stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

As the soft thud of the wooden door closing sounded throughout the room, Aynëya sighed wearily and placed herself upon a stool. "I had been hoping to take you home tonight, my daughter, but it seems that that is not to be."

"Never mind, Aunt. It is only one more night," Alanís assured.

"Alanís is right, Mother. And as Avelyn said, I will be all yours to fuss over tomorrow," Indis attempted at humour.

Aynëya smiled. "I pray it will be so, Indis."

"It will be, Mother."

"Oh, and Indis, I forgot to tell you, but I wish for you to come home to stay with your Father and I. I have already seen to prepare your room," Aynëya informed her daughter, smiling at the prospect of having Indis home again.

Indis saw the look of happiness in her Mother's eyes and did not attempt to argue. "Of course, Mother. I would glad to return home for a time," she said, placing a particular emphasis 'on for a time'.

Aynëya's smile widened. "I also have some news which might interest you, my daughter."

"What news might that be, Mother?" Indis asked, indeed quite interested. She had never been one fond of anticipation.

"A letter came two nights ago, from your brothers," at this, Indis' eyes flew to her Mother's in delight. "I have been told that they are due to return to Ellesméra sometime during this week."

"That is excellent!" Indis cried. "Such joyous news! Oh, I am so happy, Mother!"

"It is wonderful news. I have much missed Thíro and Saeríl," Alanis added.

"So have I," Indis replied, sighing.

"We have all yearned to see them again, but the issue I am most anxious about now is you, my dear," Aynëya spoke.

"Mother, I have already said that I am fine. Numerous times in fact. You and Alanís may leave if you wish; I can see that you are weary. And Vanir is probably waiting for you, cousin," Indis said, slightly exasperated.

The look on Aynëya and Alanís' face did not bode well for that suggestion, judging by the 'I-do-not-think-so' expressions painting their composures. "Indis, Vanir has been waiting a long while; I am certain he will not object to waiting a short time longer. Especially if I am seeing to you, cousin."

I do not wish to leave you," Alanís said.

"I am afraid I agree with your cousin, Indis," Aynëya said with finality.

Indis sighed. "This is what I receive for attempting to be grateful," she muttered to herself mentally. "If you wish. I only thought for your comfort."

"I am perfectly comfortable right here by your side, Indis," Alanís replied.

"As am I," Aynëya agreed in the stubborn tone of a caring Mother.

"Your undying loyalty and care for my welfare is touching indeed," Indis muttered dryly.

"What was that, daughter?"

"Oh, nothing important, Mother," Indis replied, stealthily putting to use the complicated skill of twisting ones words to abide by the laws of the ancient language for which the Elves were renowned.

"I am sure it wasn't," Aynëya retorted doubtedly.

Alanís merely grinned in amusement, large eyes glittering.

Indis joined her cousin in flashing her pearly white teeth, flushing slightly at the scolding look her Mother was casting in her direction.

Aynëya sighed, a ghost of a smile grudgingly appearing on her pretty lips. It was good to see that the family would return to its normal ways again.

Tiranë walked under the arching branches of a massive cedar tree, taking in the beauty of Ellesméra as she walked down the worn forest trail to the healing houses. Dressed in a pair of brown leggings, a loose white tunic and a pair of feminine leather boots, Tiranë had made quite sure that she would be comfortable for a trek through the woods after seeing Indis. When Alanís had come to her door and informed her of Indis' awakening, Tiranë had been utterly relieved. She had not been able to join Alanís in going to see the maiden, due to the studies Oromis had set them, but she had vowed that it would be the very first thing she would do once her home work was completed.

The scrolls she had been assigned had now all been thoroughly read and reread, a fact which also came as a relief, as that meant that her day was free to do, well, whatever she wished.

"It is good to be outdoors," Tiranë thought to herself, shuddering as she reminisced the endless hours she had spent that morning completing her tasks. Gods be thanked that she was now without burdens.

She walked slowly, savouring the rare picture before her. The afternoon light shone through the branches of the Elven trees, and the flowers that Tiranë encountered of unmatched beauty. In fact, a large amount of them were of a species she had never even seen before. Blooming ropes of the lovely Lianí vine were hanging from the thick branches of the forest trees, and Tiranë was awed at their delicate beauty. She reached out with a finger and stroked one of the fragile blossoms adorning the vine. The tissue-like petal of the sweet-smelling flower was softer than the finest Elvish silk.

There was a certain mysterious factor about the entire city, as though ancient secrets tinged the very air that wafted among the woods.

Awestruck once again, Tiranë brushed her thick braid over her shoulder, eyes anywhere but in front of her as she moved. Her pleasant peruse of Ellesméra came to a shocking and abrupt halt as she collided violently into a wall.

Wait a moment…wall?

Tiranë could not remember a wall being there. Then what…?

The question was answered when a pair of hand shot out to keep her from hitting the ground and a slow, masculine chuckle emanated from whoever was holding on to her arms.

"It seems as though I have placed myself in an inappropriate position, Tiranë. I sincerely apologise," the voice said smoothly, amusement clear within its rich depths.

Jolted back to reality in a manner far from comfortable, Tiranë looked into the dark, laughing eyes of the 'wall'. Vanir's handsome face was looking down at her, and his grin told her that he found the entire situation…funny.

She swallowed and struggled to find her voice. "That is quite unnecessary, Vanir. It is I who should be apologizing. I was not paying heed to where I was going," Tiranë stated, memories of their kiss at the party involuntarily resurfacing in her mind. His grin widened, as though he knew what she was thinking, and Tiranë blushed a deeper shade of red.

He helped her to stand properly, and the two simply stood before each other silently, Tiranë avoiding his eyes and Vanir gazing intensely at her.

"A lot on your mind, friend of my cousin?" He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"You could say that. I was admiring the city."

"I do not blame you. Ellesméra is a beautiful place,' he said.

"It is," Tiranë heartedly agreed.

There was a moment of silence between them.

Vanir put an end to it, asking, "Are you heading to see Indis?"

"Yes, I am. How did you know?"

"That is also where I intend to go. Perhaps we could walk together?" Vanir offered, quirking a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Tiranë's heart began to hammer in her ribs at the prospect, and, impossibly, her flush deepened. The fact that she admired the…most charming Elf frightened her greatly. At sixteen, Tiranë was now a woman, but she had not paid much heed to males…until now. "It is foolish," she had scolded herself hotly. "And it shall only end in a broken heart. Yours." She knew she was not beautiful, and Tiranë wondered how cruel fate would be if she were to actually fall in love with the insufferable, albeit good-looking, Elf.

Wiping the thoughts from her head, Tiranë decided to be polite and accept his offer, no matter how desperately she wished to run away from him. "I-I would like that," Tiranë lied, knowing she wanted to run away from him and the strange things he was making her feel. Her stomach clenched as she looked into his eyes and heat was spreading in her lower abdomen and in that secret, hidden place between her thighs.

"Wonderful. Shall we?" Vanir asked, offering her his arm.

"Oh, gods help me," she thought to herself. But, of course, she could not refuse his courtesy. Tiranë forced a pleasant smile onto her face and slid her hand into the crook of his green cloth wrapped elbow. He smiled at her and she felt her heart execute a little flip.

They began to walk and neither of them spoke. Tiranë found that she kept sneaking glances at the tall He-Elf from the corner of her eyes. "He looks marvellous," she thought, involuntarily. Vanir was clothed in a fine tunic of dark, emerald green, with tiny Liani vine embroidering worked into the hems, and his long legs were clad in a pair of expertly spun black leggings. Cloth boots covered his feet, and his hair was braided in the Elvish style, the thick masculine plait hanging down his back. Tiranë noticed that his sword was strapped across his back.

"Do you find our fair city to your liking, Shur'tugal?" Vanir drawled.

"I do. It is a beautiful place. Magical, more like," Tiranë answered carefully, but not untruthfully.

"I am glad. I also wish to apologise, Tiranë," he stopped his striding suddenly, changing the topic of conversation a tad to quickly for Tiranë's comfort.

"Vanir, please, it was nothing more than an accident. I do no-," Tiranë began, before he cut her off.

"No, you misunderstand me, Tiranë. I wish to apologise for that…incident…at Alanis' party," he said.

Tiranë blushed. "Vanir, please, do not bring that up. There is nothing to forgive. But I ask you, no, I plead with you to never mention that night again." Tiranë whispered desperately.

His eyes sought hers. "There is something to forgive. I was completely out of line. I wish for you and I to become friends, and I do not believe that will be possible if you blushed whenever we are alone together," he replied.

"Your apologies are accepted, Vanir. I…I also wish for us to become friends," Tiranë added, mortified that he had commented on her annoying habit of flushing whenever she was around him.

"That is enlightening to hear, Tiranë," he said.

"Er…Y-yes it is," Tiranë muttered, disgusted by the fact that she was stuttering.

Again, Vanir merely smiled his sensual smile, and began to walk at a slow pace in the direction of Ellesméra's healing quarters. The amount of conversation between them was minimal, save for the occasional comment on each other's health and the weather, but Tiranë was horrified to find the He-Elf would simply not stop studying her. It brought her great discomfort, but there was also a small tinge of feminine pleasure, which was firmly set aside as soon as it appeared with self-loathing and frustration.

Though no occupant of Du Weldenvarden had been rude or impolite enough to mention it, Tiranë well quite aware of the fact that she was classified in the eyes of the male species as nothing more than homely. Some of the younger females who resided in her village had found great satisfaction in reminding her repeatedly that she was ridiculous in calling herself a girl and that she was even more of a boy than the lads at the smithy's forge. It had been painful at first, but Tiranë had soon educated herself in the art of hearing only what she deemed fit to befall her ears.

Memories of her life in the village of her kin revealed themselves in her mind, and Tiranë became lost in her own musings as she walked with Vanir.

_Two years earlier._

"_Well, well, well, girls. Would you look at what we have here? It's little Tiranë, and her even littler femininity," Sneered the tall, blonde girl, moving to stand directly in Tiranë's path, followed shortly by her two dark-haired, slim companions. _

_Tiranë sighed, knowing full well what was forthcoming. "What do you want, Marilynn?" She asked dully, preparing herself for a stinging attack to her pride and self-confidence._

"_What do we want? Oh, nothing of particular importance, Tiranë. We only wanted to tell you that we find your audacity at showing your face in public truly…inspiring. With features like that, I wonder why your parents do not send you to work with the smithy. I overheard my brother saying they needed a few extra boys to help," Marilynn cruelly spoke, silky blonde hair flowing down her back in heavy sheets and bright violet eyes shining with amusement and dislike._

"_You would be perfect for the job," Nitha, Marilynn's associate added with contempt, pouty mouth drawn into a grimace at Tiranë's appearance._

_Blue-eyed Arliss simply smirked. _

_Tiranë's eyes dropped to the floor, not bothering to stand up for herself. This fact spurred the three haughty girls, and their whip-lash remarks stung Tiranë sharply._

"_Look at her! I have seen mushrooms larger than that chest!" _

"_And such horrid eyes! She will surely scare away any simpleton who even thinks to approach her!"_

"_Ha! Not even a simpleton would be fool enough to fall for a boy!"_

_Her eyes brimmed with furious tears, and Tiranë looked from one of the girls to the other, fixing each of them with a dirty look. _

_A crafty expression flitted over Marilynn's face. "You truly attempt to try to hold your own, Tiranë! Arliss, call the village historian, for we have just experienced the most amazing thing!"_

"_Most incredible!" Nitha agreed, auburn ringlets tumbling down her back._

_Arliss shrieked with laughter, and was soon followed by her two friends. _

_Tiranë felt ready to erupt with horrible and nasty things to say. The ferocity of her thoughts stunned even herself. Her Mother, oh, her sweet, wonderful Mother, had told her to ignore whatever malicious females like those three deemed fit to tell her. Unbelievable as it might have seemed, Marilynn and Tiranë had once been friends. The two had grown up together, played together, cried together, and even laughed together. It not was until Marilynn began developing her woman's body and receiving her moon-bloods did she change. _

_Marilynn had then met Arliss, a lovely, tall, inky-black haired maiden whom men and boys alike lusted after. Arliss was a year older than they, with a beautiful rounded figure and a pleasing face, and had made friends with Marilynn. _

_Tiranë soon saw that unlike the other girls her age, she still nursed a flat chest and did not receive her cycle. This fact had driven Tiranë and Marilynn apart, for Marilynn stated that she 'did not fraternize with children any longer'. Arliss had always expressed an initial dislike towards Tiranë, and this had also fueled the animosity between them._

_Now, two years after that period in Tiranë's life, Marilynn and Arliss, along with Nitha, tormented her at opportunity they were given. _

_Thoughts of great cruelty still passing through her mind, Tiranë glared at Marilynn a final time and spun on her heel, storming off with as much dignity as she could manage. She could still hear the girls giggling, which had grown louder as she walked away, and was hit with a wave of sadness for the friend who did not care for her anymore._

The memories left unshed tears in her eyes, and Tiranë blinked her eyes rapidly to stem them. She prayed that Vanir did not notice her state. It always hurt her to think of those times in her life. Of her village, of her mother, of Marilynn, her once best-friend and confidante.

Tiranë would be lying if she said that her friend had not been beautiful. She had even been envious of Marilynn.

"I wonder how she is now…" Tiranë thought. Before she had left her village, Marilynn had been residing in Therinsford with her elder sister. Tiranë smiled as she imagined how Marilynn and the others would react if they saw her now. Although still slightly on the slimmer side, Tiranë chest and hips had filled out dramatically when compared to their state earlier in her life. And, unfortunately, she played host to a regular menstrual cycle.

"What I would pay to see their faces when they meet me again. A Rider!" She mused.

Still engrossed in her thoughts, Tiranë was jerked back into reality when Vanir stopped walking. Again.

"We have arrived, Tiranë," Vanir said.

She nodded, and they began to mount the stairs that led to Indis' room.

Tiranë could not deny that she was thoroughly excited at seeing her new best-friend awake and whole again.

Bored, Thíro sat idly on a buttress root, elbow on his knee and chin cupped in his palm as he watched his brother meticulously dissect a blackberry. The day was warm, and he and Saeríl had been traveling throughout the entire morning to reach Ellesméra. Their horses were grazing around in the clearing and the sound of the animals' soft whinnying could be heard.

"Blackberry?" Saeríl offered from opposite him, attempting to start conversation.

"Please," Thíro accepted, plucking out a piece of the shiny black fruit from the wooden container his brother held placing it inside his mouth. "Thank you," he added, savouring the sweet taste of the dark berry.

Saeríl sighed. "To think, tomorrow we will be home again. It does not seem real, Thíro."

"I agree. Miracle it is that Captain Damítha permitted us leave."

"Indeed."

Thíro looked his brother in the eye. "I have missed our family. Especially Indis."

Saeríl smiled. "How did I know that you would say that?" Thíro lifted a dark brow. "But, I do know what you mean. I have also yearned to return." Saeríl ate another blackberry and replaced the wooden lid on the fruit container when he had finished.

Thíro watched his golden-haired brother as he rummaged through his bag for a whetstone and began to sharpen his sword. The long, scraping sounds echoed throughout their small campsite.

Still bored, he decided to make use of his time as Saeríl was and check his weaponry. Thíro removed himself from the buttress root and walked over to where his bow and quiver lay against his travel pack. With his arms within his grasp, Thíro returned to his previous seat and started to examine his bow for any flaws. He pulled the bowstring and it snapped back to its original position with a sharp 'twang!'. No faults there.

The quiver came next, and Thíro began his analysis by removing the arrows from the leather casing and arranging their feathers into the required state. The tip of a single arrow was blunt, and Thíro put it aside to fix later. When he had placed the arrows back into where they belonged, Thíro paused to quietly admire his quiver; a small, everyday thing that he had not done for many months. It was almost like a companion and friend to him, so long had it been with him. The quiver's dark brown leather was inlaid with flowing leaf designs that had been sewn into it with the utmost gentleness and care with silver thread. Attached to it was a leather strap and silver buckle so that he might wear it across his back.

No. No faults there either.

He set aside his weapons, and once more directed his gaze to Saeríl, who was still running the whetstone across his blade.

"Do you not think that the blade is sharp enough now, brother?" He grinned.

"No," Saeríl answered flatly, trailing the whetstone down the sword one last time, before announcing, "Now it is sharp enough."

Thíro snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes as Saeríl sheathed his sword, but Saeríl did not seem to notice. He never paid much attention to the relentless teasing his brother sent his way anymore.

Instead he said, "Why do you not stop sulking like a milkmaid and make yourself useful, brother?" Saeríl smirked.

He narrowly dodged a kick aimed for his chest.

Alanís sang softly as she stirred the pot of lily-of-the-valley essence that was simmering over a low fire in her kitchen. She left Indis earlier, after much debate, and had spent the duration of her otherwise free time combining fragrant flower scents with one another and various other ingredients to form soaps, balms and perfumes. The lily oil she was creating would be used to make a lightly scented floral body lotion which she planned to give to Indis and Tiranë, keeping a small amount to use for herself, she hoped.

Though she knew that such small things could have easily been achieved with magic, Alanis enjoyed creating them thoroughly.

Leaving her pot unattended, Alanís moved to her kitchen table where a large, jug-like container filled almost to the brim with pink rose perfume sat awaiting her attention. Beside the jug, there were four pretty scent bottles with diamond shaped stoppers inside of their long necks. She reached for the jug, and removed a delicate diamond stopper from the first perfume bottle, setting it quietly to the side as she placed the long, thin mouth of the container at the opening of the bottle's neck. The dark pink liquid soon filled the delicate bottle, and Alanís stoppered it while beginning to fill the others.

When this was done, Alanís had naught else to do but wait for her lily essence to properly boil. Its aromatic fragrance wafted throughout the room, tingeing the air, but then again, that was not unusual, as Alanís' Mother was the owner of a soap and body product store in the city, and Alanís was her helper. She and her Mother were experimenting with new scents most of the time, meaning that Alanís' house, their sort of shop, was almost always filled with the heady fragrances of exotic flowers, plants and even fruits.

But, as her parents were visiting relatives in Ceris, Alanís had been left in charge of managing the store, which was not exactly the easiest duty she could ask for. The store was quite popular among the Elves, who were greatly fond of the beautiful things that were displayed on the shelves there, as it had products ranging from raspberry hand cream, to apple soap, to pine cone bath oil and Lianí flower hair wash. Although not entirely a very negative thing, the fact that the shop was so highly considered meant that Alanís would have to complete the work of two people in making all the pretty products for them to take to the store in order for it to retain its high standard.

Of course there were two other Elf-maids who helped at the shop, but neither of them were able to lend a hand as one, Mína, had recently mated, and the other, Aváríë was heavily pregnant with the first child to be born in Ellesméra for years; something which had caused an exited stir among the occupants of the city. Much to her exasperation, this meant that Alanís' hands would be full for a very long while.

Feeling bored and impatient, Alanís decided that she might as well deliver the cosmetics and beauty products that were ready to her family's shop. She hastily slipped on her shoes, tied on her light cloak, pinned up her hair and placed all of her requirements into a woven basket which she used to carry the fragile bottles. Pouring a cup of water over the fire, Alanís stirred her Lily-of-the-valley essence a final few times before replacing the lid over the pot and leaving the house.

Walking down the forest paths briskly, Alanís directed herself to the colourful centre of the city, dark hair falling down in wisps from the quick bun she had pinned it back in and peach coloured skirts swishing as she moved. The entrance to the colourful shop soon came into view.

The store was situated in the centre of Ellesméra, and was reasonably easy to locate. Its front wall was formed by two curved trees which created an arch, and the windows were made from pure colourless crystal, and had a wide range of dainty items to view. Alanis walked inside, and had not been so accustomed to the sight of the interior of the shop, a look of bewildered awe would have plastered itself onto her face. On the inside, the entire room seemed to explode with colour. There were vases of flowers literally everywhere, benches scattered throughout the store should any customer wish to sit and peruse the items, creams, lotions, perfumes, bath oils, and hair washes covering every shelf in sight. It was a spacious area, and the way it had been designed and decorated was somehow colourful, yet not overdone. In truth, it was every female's delight.

It had not been pen for two days, due to her cousin's injury and also because there was a shortage of certain extracts that needed to be seen to. Alanís was taking care of the matter, but it would be at least two more days until it opened again.

Closing the glass door behind her, Alanís walked to the counter and placed her basket onto its polished wood, taking a seat on the high stool behind it. She reached underneath the countertop and pulled out a large box of paints which she would use to decorate the items. Alanís mixed a silver paint with an extremely thin brush, and began to draw curling patterns onto the bottles which had previously been inside of her basket. She painted the words "Rose oil" on its slightly rounded lower half before setting it aside to dry. Each bottle underwent the exact same process.

Alanís stayed at the shop for an hour, cleaning and tidying the place before she was confident that it was justified to deem it spotless.

Work completed, Alanís knew not what to do with her free time. She contemplated returning home, but it seemed to be a very unexciting prospect. She decided that it would not hurt to enjoy herself in the city, as she now knew that Indis would be fine and her tasks for the day had been seen to.

Alanís left the store and her basket inside of it, promising herself that she would fetch it later that evening, and made her way deeper into Ellesméra, hoping to come across some entertainment.

Who knew, mayhap something interesting would happen?

He had seen her again.

The slim, dark-headed maiden from the day before. She looked even lovelier than she had been that day in her pale orange gown and hooded black cloak.

Eragon found himself following her, wanting to meet her.

She did not seem as old as the other Elves, the maiden resembled a female in her teen years, but Eragon did not allow her appearance to deceive him as he had with Arya. He could not be sure if this were true, as he had only viewed her from a distance.

He continued to follow after her as she threaded her way through the forest walkways and up and down the small staircases that were scattered throughout Ellesméra, losing sight of her a few times before finding the peach silk fall of her dress once more. The mystery Elf-maid moved with refined grace and poise, and was a beautiful sight to view with her alabaster, almost luminescent skin and sculptured form. Eragon took the wooden steps of a small stairway two at a time jogged after the dainty She-Elf, only to find her gone.

Eragon mumbled a curse, kicking the empty air in frustration. He had wished to meet her.

Aware that it sounded ridiculous, especially after the entire affair concerning Arya, Eragon had found himself attracted to a person he barely knew! In fact, he had not even gained a proper look at her face! He cursed again and spun around, marching down the stairway he had previously bounded up with determined curiosity. As he prepared to break out into a jog for the tree which cradled his house, something glimmered from the ground and caught his sharp eye. He bent to retrieve it. It was a long, thin, silver hair pin that had a small blue jewel in the shape of a leaf attached to its blunter end. The hairpiece was a delicate, feminine thing, and was clearly of fine make and of some value.

Eragon had seen something gleam in the Elf-maiden's thick, lustrous hair. It was hers! It might even give him an excuse to speak with her. He pocketed the beautiful thing, and thanked the gods for a chance to meet the "Mystery Maiden", as he had dubbed her.

Jovial, Eragon returned to his house with a spring in his step.

Woo hoo! Finally! A chapter completed! I thought it would never happen! I know I promised to post it AGES ago, but I just haven't had a chance to ( and not to mention that I had to restart the whole chapter as my brother deleted it!). Nothing much happened in this chapter, but it is meant to teach us a little bit more about the characters and hint at future pairings. Also, the body shop does serve a particular purpose, I won't tell you what, but I will reveal that a certain Dragon Rider and pretty Elf-maid just might be caught locking lips behind the counter! (Please ignore the many mistakes!)

Thank you for staying by me, and enjoy the story.

Sincerely,

Artanisofavalon

P.S Review!


	16. Facing one's fears

I'm back! Ooh, ooh, ooh! I have just discovered something extremely interesting (for me, that is, as I am obsessed with history)! I read that Odin, Norse king of the gods had two ravens, who patrolled the nine worlds and reported back to him. They perched on his shoulders, and their names were Huginn (thought) and Muninn (memory)!

Disclaimer: Sod off!

It was late. Near midnight, he assumed.

Nari knew not why he was sitting outside Indis' healing room window at such a late hour, but he guessed that it had to do with the guilt that had been eating him alive for days unending. The guilt. And the shame.

The sentinel of Ellesmera simply sat at the bench a short way from Indis' door and stared. His face was drawn and impassive, not permitting an onlooker even the slightest hint at the inner turmoil that was painfully wrenching at his gut. Should he walk into the room? Shouldn't he? What would happen if he were to waltz into there? Would she even be awake? All these questions and more were colliding with one other in his mind, guaranteeing an insistent headache. Nari found himself wishing that Lifaen were there with him.

He had even asked Lifaen, nay begged him, to join him when he went to see Indis, but the stubborn Elf had firmly refused, saying that it was up to Nari to set right all the wrongs he had dealt.

And thus it was that Nari sat alone opposite the Elf-maiden's door on that cold night, feeling the icy wind sting his face and tease long tendrils of his straight, silver hair.

Nari's sapphire blue eyes were reddened from lack of sleep and the tears he had shed over his folly. It had been a miracle when his pitiful sobs had ceased, and the choking knot in his throat had eased. Some invisible force must have had mercy on him, but clearly not enough as he still felt as horrible as he had when Lifaen had delivered the news to him.

How long he had been sitting on that chilly bench, staring at the same cedar door before him Nari could not bring himself to remember, though the Elf knew it had been a long while. The only occurrences he could recall since he arrived at where he was were seating himself and debating whether or not to walk into the room that was behind said cedar door. He still had not come to a satisfactory conclusion, although, he had, in fact, produced several rather undesirable and hopefully avoidable scenarios about what would take place if he were to actually summon enough courage to face the maiden that was most likely asleep behind that accusing door. The first of the mentioned scenarios involved Indis leaping from her bed when she caught sight of him and slapping him smartly across the face. The second followed similar lines, except in this one Indis had an array of wicked looking pointy objects laid out before her and positively beckoning to her to put them to use. Nari did not even wish to rethink the scenes that had followed.

It was irrational, though, for Indis Haldthin was known to be a gentle and smiling She-Elf. She had always been a loyal friend to he and Lifaen, and her brothers had been fine companions throughout his childhood and warrior training.

A fresh wave of regret crashed over him as he recalled the friendship that he had shared with Indis. The friendship he had carelessly thrown to the wind. She was much younger than he, barely even a century old, but the fact had never stood in the way of their companionship. He had known her since she was but a tiny Elfling clinging to her mother's skirts, and he had loved her dearly.

It was not until that day, years ago now, when he had left for border duty did he realize that he was in love with her.

"_Nari!"_

_Foot already placed firmly into the stirrup, Nari's head whipped around to locate the person who was calling him, his eyes searching the area surrounding the gathered warriors. A smile broke out onto his face when he saw who it was._

"_Nari! Nari, wait!" A slightly younger looking Indis called frantically as she ran in a most unladylike fashion to reach him, long braid bouncing behind her and skirts gripped in her right hand._

_Edurna caught sight of her from where he was standing next to the pack horse and grinned, nudging Nari in the ribs. "Another snared heart, Nari?"_

_Nari lifted an eyebrow and smirked jokingly . "Jealous?"_

_The air vibrated as Edurna laughed and resumed tying the provisions to the pack horse._

_Nari shifted his vision back to his approaching friend and removed his foot from the stirrup, a toothy grin already forming on his handsome face. Indis came to a stop a few feet in front him, panting and dropping her bright green skirts to the ground. It seemed as though she were trying to speak, but her gasps for air were not allowing her to do so. Nari decided to save Indis the trouble, and allow the fluctuations in her breathing to ease._

_Indis!" He exclaimed, genuinely delighted to see her before he left for border duty. "What are you doing here, silly girl? You should be in bed, where it is warm!" Nari scolded good-naturedly, closing the gap between them and enveloping her in a hug. _

_He sensed rather than saw the smile that she flashed as she returned his friendly gesture. Behind them, Feiran, another fellow warrior, waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the hugging pair. Nari frowned at him as Feiran laughed and mouthed 'Peace friend'. The scowl was forced from his expression as Indis pulled back from him, oblivious to the admiring gazes that were running her up and down. Hoping to keep her in that same state, Nari curled an arm around her shoulders and led her to a tree-formed bench where the two could speak without being interrupted._

_He sat her down, and placed himself next to her, watching her closely as she rearranged her skirt and folded her white hands before looking up at him and smiling. Involuntarily, Nari found himself admiring the way her silver hair ribbon weaved in and out of her braided tresses. _

"_Mother told me you were leaving yesterday, Nari. I realized that I hadn't said good bye properly, so I came today," Indis spoke shyly. "I made you these. I know you like them," She added, pulling out a wrapped bundle from her cloak pocket. "Honey cakes," Indis supplied._

"_Thank you, Indis!" Nari said. "You did not have to do this. I dearly appreciate it, sweet one," he said in a brotherly manner, touched by the younger maiden's care for him and his well-being._

_She blushed. "It was nothing, Nari. I wanted only to see you before you left. I will miss you greatly."_

_A small spark of pleasure lit in his chest at this, warming it. It was very rare for a maiden to come to him simply to give him sweet cakes and tell him that she would miss him. It was difficult to find such innocence among She-Elves Indis' age._

"_And I you, sweet. But it is no matter; you will have Lifaen to annoy you while I am absent," Nari attempted a little humour. _

_Indis giggled. "I shall be looking forward to it."_

"_Try not to get into too much trouble, now, won't you, Indis? I shouldn't think that you would want to infuriate your Mother, sweet."_

"_I promise that I will try, Nari."_

_At that moment, Edurna called out to him, informing him that they were leaving._

"_You should go, Nari. Don't let me keep you," Indis said, eyes watering against her will._

_Nari was stunned to see that her blue eyes were moist. "I would not dream of going before I bid you farewell, Indis. Take care, sweet one," he said, brushing her forehead warmly with his lips._

_A tear slithered down her porcelain cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently. "Farewell, Nari. I shall think of you everyday," she replied, kissing his cheek tenderly, her voice quivering._

"_Farewell, Indis," he added, cupping the right side of her pretty face before he smiled at her and walked to his horse._

_She watched the soldiers mount their steeds, and waved at her friend as his horse began to trot out of the clearing. Her glum wave was answered by its receiver, who turned, lifted his hand and saluted her, watching as she slowly turned and disappeared from his sight. _

"_I will miss her," Nari thought, frowning at the warm feeling that was growing stronger inside of his chest and on his cheek._

_Bemused, he urged his horse into a canter, leaving the city and the young Elf-maiden whose emotions were just as bemusing as his were._

It had taken Nari years after that day to admit his feelings for the She-Elf.

Years.

He had tried to suppress his feelings for the first few months, but it soon became evident that that course of action was futile.

Nari had felt the first twinges of attraction towards her when she had stayed with him at his apartments while she was moving out of her parent's house and into her own cottage. It was not unnatural of an adult Elf to do thus, although the entire situation was usually to the dislike of the parents. Indis had pleaded with him to allow her to stay, as her parents and brothers were absent from Ellesmera and she was not fond of living at her house when it was empty; bad feeling, she had explained. Her pleading with him was entirely unnecessary, as he would have gladly allowed her to share his quarters, despite the fact of his unfathomable emotions.

Indis had stayed with him for a week, and it had gone by eventfully, with the two of them arguing good naturedly half the time and laughing at each other's jokes and antics. Nari had learned long before her time living with him that Indis was an exceptional cook and a fanatic for neatness. He had often teased her about how clean she kept his house.

Not that he minded, of course.

Then, things had started to become far more complicated.

He had first admitted his desire for her was when he had walked into his room to retrieve a towel and found the maiden sleeping peacefully on his bed; intent on making her as comfortable as possible, he had offered her the bed, which she had accepted reluctantly. It had been quite late, with the night warm, and Nari found that the best time to swim at the lake was after sunset, when it was deserted. Save for the occasional pair of sweethearts who chose to indulge themselves after the darkness had fallen, that is.

The sight of Indis on his bed clad in only her light cotton bed gown had nearly done him in. To Nari, she had never looked so lovely. Her dark, dark hair had fanned out to cover his pillows and her cotton gown had ridden up to reveal a great deal of her creamy skin. He could tell that she was fatigued, for her eyes were closed,

her thick eyelashes resting against her sculpted cheekbones. There was no blanket covering her, and her clothing was thin, and very revealing in the moonlight that was streaming in through the window. Nari doubted that she had deliberately chosen the particular item of clothing, though. She was not that sort.

How he had torn himself from her almost glowing image and covered her to preserve her modesty he never knew.

It had been incredibly difficult. Incredibly.

Nari swore softly as the recollection began to have its usual effect on him. He had never forgotten that night, and probably never would.

Still lost in his thoughts and seeking an excuse not to throw open the reprimanding door which seemed to point at him in disgust, Nari decided finally that he would cease his ridiculous charade and act appropriately. Drawing himself to his full height, he rose from his seat and slowly but surely walked to the door, all the while suppressing the urge to bolt down the stairs. His calloused hand found he brass door knob, and Nari quietly turned it, making sure that the door did not creak as he pushed it open. Reluctantly, he walked inside.

The interior of the room was dark; the only light came from a clear crystal lamp which hung from a silver cord that extended from the otherwise plain ceiling. The room was also bare, except for a few medical items, a bench, two stools and a bed.

A bed with a sleeping figure lying under its soft blankets.

Indis.

She lay on the healing bed deeply asleep, her eyes closed, looking much the same that she had on that other night, except this time she was decently covered. Her pretty face was serene and her mouth slightly open so that he could discern the faint sound of her, thankfully, even breathing. Nari moved closer to the bed, and looked down upon her resting frame, the first time he had done so in what was to him and extremely long time. He was grateful that the room was empty, for he would have not been able to come inside had her family been there.

His eyes swam with tears as he gazed upon her. She had not deserved his treatment of her. The only manner in which Indis had ever acted towards his was with the utmost friendship and caring. She had even agreed to mend his tunics when he had asked it of her.

With gentle fingers, he brushed back the raven hair from her temples, and lifted her pale hand to his lips to bestow a kiss on its smooth back. She sighed in her sleep, and turned her head on her pillow, facing him. Her smooth, swan-like throat seemed to be glowing where the moonlight reflected her skin, illuminating it and casting its milky whiteness an ethereal look.

His eyes refusing to remove themselves from her slumbering image, Nari seated himself upon a stool, her slender, feminine hand still tenderly clasped in his much larger one. Nari drew his thumb over the silk-like skin of her hand and heard her draw in a deep breath at his touch.

His hair spilling over his broad shoulders, Nari felt her stir and saw her eyes flutter open, focus and slide to where their hands were joined tightly.

Indis tiredly lifted her eyes to his, a small frown painting itself onto her face as she stared at him.

"Nari…?" She asked, far from delighted.

-

Ooohh...Cliffhanger. What happens next? Will she maime him? Or will she throw herself into his awaiting arms and beg to be taken? Read to find out! (Ignore my enthusiasm. I am having a good day.)

P.S I apologise for the chapter's shorter than desired length. I will attempt to make the next one longer.

Enjoy!

artanisofavalon.


	17. Genuine

I am so sorry that it took me so long to update! The reason for this heinous act being that I have not had even an inkling of inspiration lately. But, now that I have posted, I wish for you to enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I hereby swear that nothing, save for my original characters, belongs to me. Eragon and the names derived from Middle Earth belong to either Mr. Christopher Paolini or Mr. John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. That is all.

Shall we?

"What are you doing here, Narí?" Indis asked, her tone stern and distasteful, although it seemed to him that she took great pains to appear polite. She slowly sat up in her bed, her frown deepening. 

Narí swallowed. "I merely wished to see for myself that you are unharmed, Indis," he answered, looking into her eyes. Her blue orbs lacked their usual glitter.

"I thank you for your concern, Narí. But as you can no doubt see, I am perfect fine. I bid you good night," Indis replied curtly, addressing him in a manner far more unfriendly that what he had become accustomed to in past years. He knew he deserved it, and the fact broke his heart. Narí lowered his eyes from hers.

In a slow monotone, he said, "Indis, I feel that you and I should talk. There are many things that have happened, things that I would rather not have taken place at all, and I wish for you and I to be able to clear the air between us."

Her pretty face then contorted into a scowl that cleared as abruptly as it came. "So now you wish to talk, do you? After all that has taken place, after all the time that you have flitted away avoiding me and causing me pain, Narí, now you wish to talk?" Indis said, her voice far too cold for Nari's preference.

The cool night air wafting into the room from the opened window rustled Indis' raven hair, and Narí felt it brush his skin as he stared at his loves' pained expression. The maiden's face was stoic; there was no hint of emotion behind her expressionless mask.

Narí was stricken.

"Indis, you must understand, it was never my intention to hurt you! I would never-," again, she spoke over him.

"But you did, Narí! Whether it was your intention or not, you did." Said Indis, her voice hard.

He dropped to his knees at her bedside, and reached for her hand, hoping that somehow she may find it within herself to forgive him his wrongdoings. Indis immediately pulled her hand from his grasp, her eyes averted from his face.

"Go, Narí," she said tiredly. "Please, just go."

His eyes shot up to her face and he saw that her request was made in the utmost seriousness. The hair spilling over her bare shoulder brushed against his knuckles where they lay clutched into a tight fist on the bed sheets.

"Is that truly your wish, Indis?" he asked, not moving.

She was silent.

"Answer my question, Indis. Is it your desire that I leave?" His voice was calm and controlled.

"Yes. It is my desire that you leave, Narí," Indis replied bitterly.

"Then I shall honour your request. But before I leave, you must give me the opportunity to attempt to right these wrongs that I have dealt you, Indis," he said.

"There is far too much for you to compensate for in a single night, Narí," she said coldly.

He ignored her comment, and reached for her hand once more, clutching it tightly when she tried to snatch it back. "You will listen to me," he thought with finality.

"Indis, understand that you are dear to me, and that I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my foolish behaviour. Please believe me when I say that I am sorry Indis. I am so, so sorry," the words were heartfelt, though still she looked at him as though he were speaking an untruth.

What happened next shocked Narí to his very core. At his words, Indis pulled her hand from his, and slapped his smartly across his face. Before he could fully comprehend what had happened, she had raised her hand and struck him once more. She lifted her hand to slap him a third time, but Narí did not allow her stinging blow to find its mark. With snake like reflexes, his hand shot out and caught her wrist in mid-strike, his left cheek still tingling with the force of her earlier attack.

"Sorry? Sorry! How can you look me in the eye and say such a thing?" Her voice was a disbelieving hiss, that was also somewhat hysterical, and her eyes were hard. "You have the audacity to tell me that I am dear to you, when hardly spoken a proper word to me for two years! Two years, Nari! I saw the way you were acting with Arien and Alanis' birthday celebration! How could you expect me to forgive you when you would rather spend you time with the likes of her, rather than your own friends who care for far more than simply simpering their way into your bed!"I refuse to call such a person my friend! Never speak to me again, Nari! Never look at me, for I do not wish to look at you!" Indis knew that she was over-reacting, but she was too far gone in her sorrow and anger to care.

She tried to release her arm from his grasp by pulling sharply, and frowned when he held firm. "Release me this instant."

Nari disregarded her words, settling for simply staring at her. He knew that the warrior's grip that he held on her wrist was hurting her. This concerned him not; he wanted to cause her pain, just as she was causing him pain.

"Nari." She spat the name as though it were poison.

He did not relent.

Indis gave another hard pull, scowling when he still refused to release her arm.

"Let go of me!" This was accompanied by a hard yank. "Let go!"

She began to struggle, emitting soft grunts of effort as she fought to free herself. Indis grappled with him until he was partly standing and partly leaning over her bed, her face still drawn into an ugly expression.

Nari would have released her when she had first asked, but he knew that if he had done that, she would have struck him again. Indis was attempting that very thing right at that moment; she dug her long fingernails into his wrists, leaving bloody half-moons imprinted into the skin.

"Indis! Calm yourself, girl! If you do not stop this nonsense, you will hurt yourself!" Narí said in an orderly voice whilst he avoided having Indis' bony elbow thrust into his flank.

She continued to struggle, uncaring for his command.

Finally, Narí's patience wore thin. "Indis! That is enough!" He barked, his voice harsher than he ever permitted it to be in her presence.

Abruptly, Indis' writhing ceased, and she looked up at him with slightly shocked eyes. He had never before spoken to her so. Aware that she looked like a fool, Indis' face rapidly assumed a mask of cold indifference that was far too unlike her for Narí's peace of mind. She sent him a detesting glare, snatched her limbs away from him, and stepped down from the bed with little difficulty.

With her head held high, Indis walked passed Narí to the door, which she opened while averting her blue eyes from the silver haired He-elf who stood rigidly in front of her. Narí knew that she wanted him to leave her, and resolved to obey her this time. He straightened his tunic and walked towards her, angry and frustrated, but could not help but admire how appealing she looked. Her dainty white nightgown was a simple, sleeveless piece that outlined her womanly form well, and her lengthy hair was ruffled after their little…encounter. Even when he was aggravated with her, Narí still thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"I bid you good night, Indis," he said courteously, inclining his head to her respectfully.

Indis merely stayed silent, staring out into the night. He stepped out of the room, and Indis fixed her now reddened eyes upon him and brusquely closed the door.

She collapsed against the glossy wood once she had closed it, her lightly clad body sliding slowly to the ground until her knees met her chin. She wrapped her arms around her cold self, feeling the goose flesh, and waited until Nari's retreating footsteps had faded into the distance before she dissolved into heartbroken sobs.

  
Narí was livid.

He was furious at Indis for her stubbornness, at Lifaen for his thrice damned advice, and, most of all, at himself.

The elf strode proudly away from her room, his thoughts and emotions a flurry which pained his gut. He had failed in repairing his relationship with her, and although he had no intention of revealing his true feelings to her, he had hoped to reconcile and perhaps become close to her again.

All the chances of this happening had been reduced to ashes in the dust. 

Narí knew that he deserved her hostility and dislike of him, but he had also been shocked at the new, very hurt side of Indis he had seen that night. He would never forget the look on her face when she had shut that accursed door. She had looked so hurt, so betrayed, so…young.

He bit back an oath. He needed to take his mind of what had just happened, and the guilt which had now tripled. His wrists ached, and Narí pulled back the sleeve of his tunic to bare the skin that had been marked by Indis' sharp fingernails. The wounds were beginning to heal, but they still stung. He dismissed the concept of healing them with magic, preferring to allow the flesh to knit together on its own accord as a reminder of that night.

Is Indis had no wish to speak with him, or see him, so be it. Narí refused to allow the fact to shatter his pride and self-confidence. He would find a way to move on, although the prospect of even attempting to fall out of love with her was useless.

He would make her regret her choice.

The elf quickly covered his arm and climbed down a spiraling stairway, making his way deeper into the city to Aríen's apartments.

A rather loud knocking roused Aríen from her rest.

A frown implanting itself on her brow, she left her warm bed and tied the sash of her cotton robe around herself before she walked briskly to her front door to discover who required her assistance at such a late hour. Her hand met the smooth brass of the door knob, and Aríen swung open the door to see a rather disheveled looking Narí standing outside of her apartment.

Confused, she attempted to greet him, but before she could get even a single word to leave her mouth, Narí had pulled her flush against himself and crushed his lips to hers, propelling her back wards into her home and shutting the door sharply with his booted leg. Aríen's eyelids drooped with pleasure as his mouth left her lips and planted itself onto the matt skin of her neck. Her arms clutched at his back. 

Breathing heavily, he pulled away from her, gazing upon her with lust filled eyes.

"I believe we should continue this in the confines of your bed chamber, do you not agree, Aríen?" He said her name huskily, as though it were a drop of ambrosial dew he wished to savour.

"Indeed I do," she replied breathlessly, her chest heaving with excitement. 

"Excellent," he said, his lips once more on hers, his tongue slipping into her warm mouth.

Aríen moaned softly as he lifted her up and strode into her chamber.

Light from the flameless tear-drop lantern shone softly upon Eragon's bare torso as he lay with his head resting on his arm on his comfortable bed. Saphira lay nearby in her cushioned pit, emitting low snoring noises from deep within her chest. It was a warm in his chamber that night, and Eragon had no blanket covering his body as he twirled the elf-maiden's silver pin between his calloused fingers. The soft light from the elvish lantern reflected of its smooth surface and the tiny jewel which crowned it. It was a slender, pretty piece, such as would be expected to have been wrought by the elves.

Again, Eragon found himself wondering whether or not he would encounter the dark-haired maiden again. He hoped he would. The prospect of meeting and befriending her was appealing to him.

The day had been trying, for Oromis had busied Tiranë and himself by bidding them to levitate certain objects. They had begun with small, simple things, such as a pebble or an apple, and had gradually progressed to much harder tasks. Tiranë had been required to mentally lift a small boulder, and he had received the duty of moving a stack of rather heavy ceramic slates from one side of the forest green to the other.

It had been slightly more difficult than what he would have preferred, but it was a challenge, and a challenge was something he loved.

Although, the ordeal had left both he and Tiranë frustrated and thoroughly exhausted.

His eyes beginning to droop shut due to this fact, Eragon placed the hair accessory on his bedside table, glanced a final time at Saphira's immobile form, and fell into slumber's rejuvenating caress.

Unbeknownst to Eragon, Saphira cracked open an eye and assessed his sleeping figure, and began humming in a knowing and contented manner.

Soothing sounds emitting from the calm river below her echoed amidst the trees, gracefully brushing her ears and bringing a small amount of comfort to her as she sat alone on the soft grass beside the wide body of flowing water. Arya wore her hair bound at the nape of her neck, a style that was slightly unusual for her, and the berry red cloak that had been draped over her dark blue dress brought relative warmth, warding off the chill of the quiet night. The moon shone beautifully, illuminating the body of water and its banks with an eerie silver light.

Her small feet bare, the Elven Princess reveled in the mercy of total solitude, almost disbelieving the fact that she was finally on her own, away from the demands and courtesies of court among the Lords and Ladies of Ellésmera. She had been questioned and pawned over from the moment she had set foot before her Mother, and made amends with the woman who had refused her choice of accepting the Yawë for several decades.

Flitting through her thoughts, Arya absently watched the river water slosh and churn as it weaved its way through the forest, free and careless in a way she would never be permitted to be. Oh, how she envied it.

Arya sighed and rubbed her wide green eyes.

Now that she had finally returned to her home, Arya felt less care-worn and burdened than she had in nearly a century. The pain of losing Fäolin had begun to slowly subside, and the piece that had been torn from her soul was finally being restored. In her heart, his memory and love would live forever on, but Arya knew that he would wish her to spend the rest of her days in mourning. She had abandoned the distasteful habit of drowning her sorrows in alcohol, for once accepting her Mother's concerned advice. Islanzadí had changed upon her return, and although the Elven Queen still expressed her disapproval towards her acceptance of the Yawë, she had made an effort to compensate for the many years that had been lost to them.

Islanzadí was a proud woman, the sort of person who rarely altered their views and opinions, and Arya admired her for her effort in supporting her daughter's choices.

Sitting there, on her own and feeling hungry for the thrill of adventure, Arya was struck by the sudden desire to remove her cloak and leap into the river. She had not done such a thing since she had been a mere elf-girl, barely at the brink of adulthood. It brought back many fond reminisces of her childhood spent running through the woods with Fäolin and Glenwing.

Why should she not do it? Who was there to stop her?

Her mind set, she lithely lifted herself from her seating position and walked to the very edge of the river bank, loosening the tie which secured her cloak and pulling the leather thong out of her hair to release the long black tresses. Her dress was of very fine make, but this meant nothing to Arya as she jumped backwards and leapt in to the cold river water with an excited yelp.

Cold, clear water enveloped her, and she kicked her legs to surface, longs skirts flaring out as the water held them aloft. Surfacing, she gasped for air, the thick hair that was sticking to her neck and shoulders billowing outwards as she battled against the river's currents, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to relive the hobbies of her past and not giving a second thought to the cold.

Arya swam leisurely, submerging herself to acquire a glimpse of the underwater world, resurfacing to admire the moon and simply lolling back and forth amidst the water, and when she had satisfied her yearnings she simply floated on her back and trusted the river to guide her. Content, she closed her eyes, and saw her dead love's smile as he watched her frolic in the water with the carelessness every thirty year-old was entitled to.

Even now she felt the sweetness of his kiss.

For the first time in months, Arya's smile was genuine.

Patches of warm sunlight appeared on the forest floor from wide spaces in the canopy, bathing the leaf litter and fresh earth with their golden light. Saeríl's horse nickered softly as it maneuvered cleverly around boulders and fallen branches. He checked the buckle of his quiver where it stretched across his chest, and was satisfied to find that it was secure. He and Thíro had traveled for a large fraction of the night, hoping to reach Ellesméra by morning, and reunite with their family.

He adjusted his vambraces, and turned to his brother, who was toying idly with a green feather, twisting it leisurely between his fingers. Amused, he said, "Have you no mind to rest, brother? I know not of you, but I am famished."

Thíro grinned, and replied, "I am impatient to return, but, like you, I am also in dire need of refreshment. Let us rest here."

Saeríl nodded, and slid off the white horse, reaching for the food pack and starting to rummage through it. His hand met the rounded surface of a green apple, and he threw it to his brother, taking a red one for himself. Leaning against the thick trunk of a pine tree, with the green feather tucked into his quiver, Thíro took a large bite from the fleshy fruit, chewing quickly and loudly while smiling at his brother's raised eyebrows.

"Have you no manners, Thíro?" Saeríl smirked, biting his own apple and tasting the enticing sweetness.

"Why, I believe not."

"My suspicions have finally been confirmed."

"I am glad to have been of service to you, oh Suspicious One."

They continued in this manner for minutes, each of them throwing mock insults and insinuations at each other, laughing and smiling at the other's antics. One hour, and two pieces of bread, a small melon, and a goblet of fruit cordial later, the two brothers disposed of their leftovers, repacked their packs and set on their way. The sun was shining proudly in the sky by this time, and the woods were alive with the sounds of the forest animals. On the low branch of a pine tree, a fluffy squirrel snatched an acorn from its friend and scuttled up the tree, and nearby, a mother deer nudged its young with the tip of its nose to help it find its feet.

Appeased and at peace, Thíro stared at his brother's blonde head, wondering what went on inside of his mind. Although he would never dream of invading Saeríl's privacy, Thíro was curious as to how his brother functioned mentally. Saeríl was a quiet person, who preferred to spend his spare time alone. But, despite this, his brother had a wicked mind for practical jokes and was known for his skill at teasing a person while making it seem as though he were being nothing but utterly polite.

"Have you nothing more useful to do than attempt to cleave off my head with your eyes?"

Thíro jolted back into reality and narrowed his eyes at Saeríl jokingly. "You have foiled my attempt. I was one cut away from decapitating you, my brother."

Saeríl rolled his eyes. "Thíro, you are incorrigible."

"You know very well that you love me."

Saeríl snorted, and kicked his horse into a gallop.

There! A chapter completed. I apologise for how long it took me to post, and know that the next chapter shall be longer and with more romantic action. Also, before you decide to detest Narí, I suggest that you read the next chapter, when all of his pent up anger and frustration had left him. Anyhow, enjoy!

Sincerely,

Artanisofavalon.


	18. The day after

Ach! Finally. Another update. It took me longer than usual, I know, but I had a horrid case of the dreaded Writer's Block. Curse you, oh evil One! Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: See first chapter, for I am sick of this.

Shall we, O faithful readers?

Tiranë and Indis sat beside each other on the Elf's wooden bed, Indis unusually quiet as her friend continuing to chatter freely, unaware that the Elf maiden had ceased speaking and had her skirt twisted between her white-knuckled hands. Noticing the situation, the Rider began to speak in a more excited and friendly fashion, occasionally adding little laughs and gesticulations to attempt to lighten Indis' mood; this did not fare well, for the Elf responded by simply forcing a polite smile and returning her gaze to the spot on the wall where it had rested before Tiranë had distracted her.

Indis had returned to her parent's home that morn, and Tiranë had accompanied her from the healer's care, along with Alanís, Aynëya and Indis' father, Dorían. Although the Elf had been less enthusiastic than usual, Tiranë had kept her silence and reasoned that a person who had just been released from two horrid days at a clinic deserved their respite and peace of mind. However, Tiranë's concern had now been raised, as Indis had become even more quiet and withdrawn as the day progressed, and her face had acquired an aloof look, as though there was a great deal of emotion that she wished to conceal from everyone save herself.

Curious, Tiranë asked quietly: "Indis, are you feeling well? There is nothing you wish to speak of, perhaps to clear your conscience? Mayhap I can be of help."

Indis turned towards her, not looking directly into her green eyes, and flashed a tiny smile. "It is nothing of importance, my friend. I am only tired, that is all." It was difficult for Indis to say thus, although it was partly truthful; she was exhausted, after having spent the entire night weeping. Were it not for the merciful sachet of Witch hazel that she had found, Indis would have arrived at her house looking a mess and sporting red, swollen eyes.

Tiranë seemed skeptical, but nodded. "That is understandable." The Rider swung her legs over the bed, her knee length tunic falling back into place as she pushed her braid over her shoulder. "Would you like some tea, Indis? I will boil you a posset if you wish," Tiranë offered.

"Please do, Tiranë. Thank you," Indis replied, her voice laced with gratitude. To Indis, tea was a wonderful thing. The fragrant beverage had been a dear friend in many a trying situation, and she welcomed the prospect of cupping a finely made cup of blueberry brew.

Pleased, Tiranë smiled and bounded out of the room, her footsteps thudding along the staircase as she jogged her way to the kitchen.

Hearing Tiranë disappear into the bottom floor of their living quarters, Indis let out a sigh and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her pale arms around them. The past night for her had been spent in deep thought and emotion, and it had awarded her with a chance to analyse her situation. Both she and Narí had said and done some less than wise things, and Indis now regretted the way she had acted towards her long time friend and secret love-interest. "_I cannot be helped that he does not feel for me the way I do for him_," she her mind echoed.

It had seemed so incredibly real, that Indis had for a single moment believed that all was well between them. It was not until she had opened her eyes and the image had faded from her thoughts did she realize the truth.

She had dreamt of him the previous night, of his warm lips against her heated skin, and of his crystalline blue eyes watching her face as he moved within her. It had seemed so incredibly real, that Indis had for a single moment believed that all was well between them. It was not until she had opened her eyes and the image had faded from her thoughts did she realize the truth.

Her eyes began to sting.

The hurt was still far too imminent for her to completely forgive him, but Indis resolved to attempt and make amends when the aching in her heart ceased.

Indis wondered where he had gone after he had left her the night before. Had he returned to Aríen's bed? It was more than likely that he had, for who would stay where there is only heartache instead of moving to where there is welcome? Indis did not blame him.

The tantalizing scent of fresh blueberries lifted her from her musings, and Indis looked up to see Tiranë's blue tunic swish around the jamb of her doorway. The human girl walked into her room and placed the teacup into Indis' hands with a smile.

"Thank you," Indis said quietly, sipping her tea.

"You're welcome, Indis."

"Tiranë…my brothers are to arrive from warrior training this eve…and it would mean a lot to me if you and Turgon were to be present tonight," Indis said, her voice soft.

Touched, Tiranë answered, "It would be my pleasure, Indis, although Turgon has something to attend to this night." She did not mention that the dragon would be spending the evening with Saphira.

Indis smiled.

Silence ensued between the two friends.

Tiranë gazed out of the window, reveling in the pretty sight of a Sparrow perched on a small branch outside of the window. Tentatively, she reached out to the small animal with her mind, and felt their separate beings touch each other mentally. "I will not hurt you," Tiranë assured it. "Come here, little bird." She held out her hand, and the Sparrow flew gracefully through the window to stand on her up-turned hand. Tiranë thanked the bird for its trust, and stroked its feathers with a gentle finger.

From beside her, Indis looked upon the scene and smiled. "May I?" She asked the bird in the Ancient language, holding out her index finger. It's intelligent stared into hers, and it stepped up onto her smooth limb. She murmured to it quietly, and placed a kiss to the bird's head. "Gànga," she said. "Enjoy the day." With a chirp, it flew out of the room.

"You have a way with animals, Indis," Tiranë said from beside her.

"It is merely bestowing kindness upon them, Tiranë, just as you did," Indis replied, shifting on her mattress, and draining the last drops of her tea. She set the cup onto the polished surface of the bedside table with a 'thump'.

Once again, neither of them spoke, and the room became uncomfortably still.

Indis wanted to tell Tiranë all that had happened the previous night; she simply wanted to be enveloped into a warm embrace and cry. "Oh Alagaësia. What have I gotten myself into?" Her eyes watered.

Seeing this, Tiranë was convinced that all was not well. "Indis," she said, laying a hand on the Elf's shoulder. "What is wrong?"

With a water-logged exhale, Indis wiped her eyes and threw care to the wind. "It is a long story, Tiranë."

"I have plenty of time to spare," she replied.

Indis' downcast eyes stared at the skirt of her gown as she tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. "Oh, Tiranë, I have been so incredibly stupid! I have ruined any chance of happiness I might have had with my only love." Tears left salty trails down her face.

Tiranë was bewildered. Indis? In love? Although, when one thought of it clearly, it made sense. Now she had a companion in the battle of harbouring feelings for someone that she could not have. Empathetic, Tiranë spread her arms and said, "Oh, Indis, come here."

Sniffing, the Elf maiden wrapped her arms around Tiranë and cried. When her sobs had become weaker, she continued with her story. "He came to visit me last night…Oh, said some terrible things to him, Tiranë. I accused him of being fickle, and…I struck him. I regret all of it. I was just so hurt that he did not love me, that his heart belongs to another. He has been my friend for so long and now I have ruined everything. I have scrapped years of companionship."

Tiranë embraced her friend all the tighter. 'The poor girl,' she thought.

"It will be alright, don't worry," She attempted to reassure.

"That is just it, my friend. I am afraid that it will not be alright," she whispered, her head laid on Tiranë's shoulder.

"Well, if that is the case, then perhaps you are not meant for each other. You will find love again, Indis."

"May it be that you are right, Tiranë."

A thought then struck her. Who was Indis love?

"Indis, I hope that you do not see this as an intrusion, but, who is he?"

A single word left Indis' lips, and it was that single word that rendered Tiranë incredulous.

"Narí."

Sunshine drifted in from the windows, bathing the room and its occupants in honey-coloured light. Aríen lay awake in her bed, silently gazing upon her lover, admiring his rare beauty. Their lovemaking had been intense and far more wild than any of their previous encounters. Both Elves had immediately fallen into an exhausted state of rest afterwards.

Her body still slightly sore from that night's activities, Aríen sat upright on the mattress, stretching, her full breasts thrusting upwards as she arched her flawless back. She slid off of the bed, and reached for her robe, walking into the bathroom with it draped over her forearm.

Lingeringly, she washed her body to rid it of the odours and fluids that she and Narí had traded in the heat of their passion. As she thoroughly soaped her torso, Aríen was once again reminded that, although the lovemaking sessions were delicious, there was no love between them, that their dalliances were meaningless and that his heart clearly belonged to another. The relationship between them would have to meet its end if they were to ever find the mates their wyrd intended for them.

It was true that she held affection for Narí, but it was only a friend that she viewed him, and he her.

Clean, Aríen lifted herself from the deep seated tub and allowed the water to drain away, drying her body with a towel and wrapping it tightly in her robe afterwards. Her bare feet slapping noiselessly against the thick carpet that covered the ground, Aríen drew a toothed comb through her hair and walked into the kitchen to prepare a meal for Narí and herself.

She laid peaches, bread, jam and a pot of tea on the breakfast table, along with two plates and the required cutlery. She heard Narí awaken and dress himself in the master bedroom, and called out to him. "Narí, come into the kitchen. Breakfast is ready."

"Give me a moment, please, Aríen." This was accompanied by the sound of Narí lacing his leggings. He came out of her chamber, barefoot and clad in his tunic and hose.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning."

They each sat opposite the other at her table, and Aríen poured the tea and placed a slice of bread on his plate, reaching for a plump peach. The two ate in silence, clearing the table together after their meal, and while doing so, Aríen decided to approach the subject of their relationship, and his love for Indis.

He stood beside her, drying a saucer, which Aríen removed it from his grasp, cupping his cheek his her soft palm.

"You love her, don't you?"

Narí did not even try to contradict her, nor did he need to ask to know whom she meant. "Yes."

Aríen smiled. "I thought as much. I have had wonderful experiences with you Narí, but we both know that our relationship will never surpass the bond of friendship."

He sighed. "I know. I am sorry, Aríen."

"There is no cause for you to be apologetic, Narí." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I wish you luck; may you find joy in each other."

"Thank you." He embraced her warmly, kissing her forehead. "May happiness always find you, Aríen."

And with that, Narí drew on his boots and left Aríen's home, grateful for the temporary reprieve from his chaotic thoughts.

"Narí?" Turgon echoed.

"Yes, Narí. My best friend is in love with Narí."

"Well, I cannot say that I expected this," the dragon said, large eyes blinking.

"I know. It was quite shocking to hear, I can say that much," Tiranë replied, stretched out beside him. She had left Indis' apartment a while ago, and had gone straight home, mulling over what she had learned quietly and taking pains to ensure that it was not possible for anyone to determine her thoughts.

Turgon rustled his scales, and a trail of smoke drifted from out of his nostrils. Tiranë laid her head against his side, stroking his neck soothingly.

"Do you think that there will ever be true love between them?" She asked.

"I do not know, youngling. Perhaps it was meant to be and perhaps it was not; only time shall decide."

"You are right. But, I do hope that Indis finds happiness. I would hate for her to become hurt."

"As would I, youngling." His breath ruffled the hair that framed her young face in dark wisps. "Indis is lucky to have you; you are a loyal friend."

She smiled, and wound her arms around his neck, burying her face in the delicate place where his neck joined his shoulder. "I am even more forunate to have you."

"Indeed you are."

Tiranë's arms slackened their grip slightly, and Turgon could feel her grin against his scales. "You just had to ruin the moment, didn't you?"

"I have a renowned reputation to uphold, my dear, if you have not already noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed."

"Marvellous." 

He heard her sigh.

"Turgon?" 

"Yes?" 

"I have a confession to make."

Turgon suddenly became extremely interested. "Oh? Do tell." 

Tiranë released another sigh. "Indis isn't the only one undergoing romantic dilemmas."

"Er...Care to be more specific?"

"I think I'm in love. And that's not even the half of it. I think I'm in love with Vanir."

Turgon blinked. "In love?" He echoed. " With Vanir? You?" Tiranë heard his laughter begin to sound in her mind, softly at first, and then louder and louder until he was close to hysterics.

Mortified, Tiranë drew herself up to stand and looked Turgon squarely in the eye, hands clenched into fists. "I knew you wouldn't understand!" She spun around and began to walk towards the winding staircase.

His laughter began to decrease. "Tiranë, wait. I am sorry. I shouldn't have laughed."

Tiranë released an exhausted exhale, turned, and dropped down to sit next to him once more. "No, it's alright. I am only this agitated because I don't want to feel this way about him."

"How do you feel about him? Is it merely attraction…or something more?"

"I think he is the most beautiful being I have ever seen," she admitted, her face flushing. "And he makes me feel as though my entire body is on fire when I am in his presence," she frowned. "I hate it. I hate feeling so besotted."

Turgon pressed his forehead against hers and looked deeply into her gold flecked eyes. "Do you think that the feelings are mutual, youngling?"

Tiranë's blush deepened. "I do not know, but…h-he did kiss me…once."

The dragon looked amused. "So…? He kissed you did he?"

"Yes," she answered.

Turgon's demeanor seemed to sober. "Tiranë, a mere kiss is guarantee of love. I would not see you hurt at the hands of one Elf, youngling."

"Neither would I. Now, can we please leave the topic of my love life to rest? And stop calling me youngling!"

"Indeed we may." He breached a new subject of conversation, amused. "Are you to return to Indis' home this eve?"

"I am. Her brothers are to arrive at dusk."

"Well, should you not ready yourself? It is already well past noon."

"I might do just that, Turgon."

"Enjoy yourself, youngling. And tell Indis that I send my regards to herself and to her brothers."

"I will." She stood, walking to her chamber. "Are you flying with Saphira tonight?"

Turgon sent her a warning look. "I am."

Grinning, Tiranë waggled her eyebrows and hastily disappeared into the bedroom, locking the door behind her with a definite click.

"Home sweet home, how I adore thee."

Hearing his brother's extravagant language, Saeríl flashed a smirk. "Eager to return, aren't you?"

"Of course! I would have that after half a year, you would be too. Ungrateful wretch!" Thíro replied in jest, eyes glittering in excitement at the prospect of arriving home after so long.

"I? Wretched? I should think not, Thíro. You describe yourself far too well in those colourful words."

The dark-haired Elf let out a guffaw. "I beg to differ. I also wager that I can beat you to the city by thirty steps!" He urged his horse into a gallop.

"Ha! I shall be enjoying sugared violets before the fire before you even glimpse the tree tops pf Ellesméra!" Saeríl followed his brother's example, welcoming the uplifting feel of adrenaline and exhilaration coursing through his body.

It was well past time to put an overly-cocky elder brother back into his place.

Saeríl brightened at the thought, his blond hair flaring out behind him as he thundered his way to Ellesméra.

A loud knocking sounded at Lífaen's door, and he set down his goblet of fine wine to rise and answer it. His hand closed over the brass door knob, and he swung open the door, only to be met with a sharp punch to the nose.

Cursing fervently, Lífaen cupped his hand to his nose, and glared dangerously at his attacker. His eyes widened when he realized that it was a cold looking Narí.

"Narí? What in Umhodan's name is the meaning of this!"

Narí released an emotionless laugh. "Do not play indifferent with me, Lífaen. You deserved that, and you know it."

"What do you mean? If I have offended you in some way, then please inform me, for I am most certainly not accustomed to answering the door to be met with a fist in my face! " Lífaen demanded, healing his nose and feeling the painful throbbing disappear.

"Then allow me to refresh your memory," Narí began, scowling. "You, my oh so wise friend, advised me to speak with Indis, to explain my self to her, 'for she is compassionate and will understand." Narí mocked. 'She was not compassionate when I visited her last night, Lífaen. Nor was she forgiving. Indis almost clawed the skin off of my face!"

Lífaen's demeanor softened. He laid a hand on Narí's shoulder, and sighed. "I apologise, my friend. I honestly do. But you cannot spend the rest of your days regretting your actions. You must attempt to set matters right. And you shall start right now."

"What do you mean? I do not believe it wise to approach her again, so soon after our…argument, and she refuses to speak with me," Narí said, bitterness lacing his tone.

"What I mean is, I want for you to join me in welcoming the arrival of Thíro and Saeríl tonight. It shall be the perfect opportunity to perhaps speak with Indis, and you will be reunited with two of our closest friends."

Narí was torn between excitement and anxiety. "They are arriving this eve? How was it that word of this did not reach my ear?"

"I had not the chance to tell you. Never mind that, you now know, and we shall be going together."

"That would not be wise."

Lífaen resisted the urge to grip Narí's collar. "Narí, you have fought Urgals, you have aided Riders and you have faced the wrath of war. Do not tell me that you are frightened of one maiden, who is without a doubt besotted with you."

"You do not know that," Narí answered.

"Perhaps not, but there is only one manner in which to discover the truth," was Lífaen's riposte, as he inspected Narí's attire. "That tunic is far too plain for such a joyous occasion; come, I shall lend you one of mine."

Deaf to Narí's protests, Lífaen drew out a clean red cotton tunic, and handed it to Narë, who accepted it with thanks.

"I shall wait for you outside," Lífaen said, leaving the room.

Narí hastily pulled the soft over tunic over his head and, pulling out the hair that had become caught in the collar of the shirt, walked out of his friend's quarters to meet him outside.

"So, Lífaen? Shall we march to my impeding doom?" Narí asked, hardly any humour at all in his tone.

Lífaen smirked. "I am quivering where I stand."

"You had better be. If I lose a limb tonight, expect retribution," Narí replied curtly, scaling the staircase without another word.

Indis chose her strawberry coloured gown.

Saeríl had always said that she looked beautiful in it.

Clad in her knee-length embroidered shift, Indis moved to stand before the mirror and donned her dress, tying the laces at the tightly, and smoothing her white fingers over the skirt to remove any wrinkles that might have been hiding in the soft fabric.

She was horribly nervous, as well as excited, for there was every chance that Narí would be present that evening. Indis hoped that he would not; she was far from ready to face him, despite her hearty wish to apologise for her unacceptable and shameful behaviour.

Sighing, and feeling a fresh flow of tears begin to prick at her eyelids, Indis dabbed a small amount of lavender oil on to her wrists and shoulders, and wove pink Baby's Breath and cream ribbons into her hair, before she carefully plaited it into a braid that hung past her rounded hips.

Indis was undergoing inner turmoil, but, despite that, still felt a prick of absolute happiness when she thought of her brother's return. She decided that the very first things that she would do when she caught sight of them was fly into Thíro's arms and embrace Saeríl till he could barely breathe.

Lost in thoughts of their reunion, Indis slipped a pair of white satin shoes onto her pale feet, and slowly lifted herself from the bed, the locket that had been Thíro's gift to her before he left resting comfortably on her chest.

"Indis, are you ready? We are leaving soon," Alanís called, walking into Indis' room.

"Yes, I am ready, cousin," Indis replied.

"Are you not thrilled, Indis? They are finally returning to us!"

"I am more than thrilled, Alanís. I know not whether to weep or laugh for joy," Indis said, in all sincerity.

Alanis smiled, and extended her dainty hand. "Come, cousin. We do not wish to be late."

Indis accepted the gesture with a curve of her pretty lips.

"No, indeed we do not."

Less melancholy than she had been that morning, Indis Haldthín smiled and laughed with her family as they happily rushed to welcome their kinsmen.

Well, that is all I have to give you for now folks, although the next chapter shall me more…exciting. I apologise wholeheartedly for the wretched amount of time it took me to update, but my computer was acting as though it had been repeatedly hit over the monitor with a baseball ball bat, or if you are Australian, a soft ball bat. I swear that the next chapter will be posted much faster than this one, unless, of course, my computer acts up again and I have the writer's block.

Enjoy,

Artanisofavalon.


	19. Advice

Chapter Nineteen

Disclaimer: Eragon is the creation of Christopher Paolini and in no way belongs to me.

-

"What a night," Tiranë breathed, collapsing onto her bed and pulling her tight boots off of her feet. Massaging the toes firmly to coax the blood that seemed to be frozen below the surface of the skin of her feet into coursing as it should, Tirane let out a loud yawn, appalled at the taste of alcohol on her breath. _I am drunk. _

_You would do well to expect a pleasant surprise tomorrow morning, youngling._

_The aftermath of a night of reckless drinking can hardly be described as a 'pleasant surprise'._ Turgon chuckled, and Tiranë released a groan as the sound echoed throughout the recesses of her mind.

The dragon cracked open an eye. _I would love to hear what Oromis would have to say to you if he were here, youngling._

_I am sure you would. I do know how you adore the suffering of others, Turgon. _Tiranë reached for the jug of water that she kept at the side of her bed, and poured a generous amount into a goblet before swallowing it in a single, lingering draught to clear the faelnírv induced haze that had settled like rough wool over her brain. It did little to help.

Not bothering to change into her nightclothes, Tiranë buried her face in her pillow with a muffled exclamation and plummeted into sleep.

_You could have had the decency to bid me a good night,_ Turgon said dryly, prodding at the girl's side with the tip of his tail.

Tiranë merely snorted, rolled over to her side and fell from the bed in an ungraceful heap of bed sheets and long hair, Turgon's tail emitting a loud crack as her weight descended upon it at a less than comfortable angle.

_Ouch._

-

"So, you still collect pine cones, then, Indis?"

Indis glanced up from her writing, smiling at her brother as he sifted through her 'box of treasures'. It was a childish thing, certainly, for a female elf of her age to gather trinkets and memoirs, but she enjoyed it. "Yes, I do."

"And feathers, and coloured stones, and-"

"Yes, and all of those as well, Thíro," she interrupted, watching with interest as he deftly plucked a yellow healing stone from the riot of pretty things and held it to his eye.

"You have not changed one whit, Indis," Thíro proclaimed, dropping himself unceremoniously beside her onto the bed and fiddling with a sliver of her hair, the stone now returned to its place, and forgotten. "I am glad."

"I am glad that you have finally returned. You cannot know how dull it has been without you, my brother."

"And you cannot know how dull it has been patrolling the forests with Captain Damítha barking orders at our heels."

She laughed, and rested her head onto his shoulder, exhaling. "You are here now, as is Saeríl, and for me, that is all that matters."

Thíro pressed a warm, brotherly kiss to her temple, and asked her the most bizarre and shocking question that she had ever though to hear from him; "Indis, are you besotted with anyone?"

Her heart leapt to her throat. How could her brother know about Narí! "Thíro-"

Her brother did not permit her to continue, but merely turned his interested dark eyes to stare into hers. "If there is someone, Indis, be certain that he is the one who is meant for you. I would hate to see you hurt." Thíro placed another chaste peck to her cheek, and left the room, whistling a merry tune that she was positive that she had encountered somewhere, and leaving her bemused and startled at his words.

What if Thíro truly had discovered her feelings for Narí? He did not seem troubled, but what he had said had been strange.

Frowning, Indis penned the last line of her poem onto the paper of her journal.

-

Eragon had met her that morning.

The _Mystery Maiden. _

Heading back to his living quarters in the central area of the Elven capital after a tiring day of training and study with Oromis and a disoriented Tirane, Eragon had been startled to see her at the foot of the enormous tree that held his apartments, conversing with a tall, blond elf who had a prodigious longbow strapped to his back. The water that he had been drinking sliding into his windpipe, Eragon had spun on his heel and bounded up the steps sung from the tree, forcing his leaps to slow only when a soft voice had politely called to him. _"Wait."_

"_You are Tirane's friend, yes, Shur'tugal?"_ she had asked, smiling prettily.

"_Y-yes,"_ Eragon had stammered, flushing brightly, and feeling Saphira's unsympathetic laughter reverberate throughout his chest. _"I am Eragon."_

"_Eragon? Well, Rider Eragon, any friend of Tirane, is my one of my own. My name is Alanís,"_ the maiden, _Alanís_, had said, greeting him in the proper fashion of her kind, with her long white fingers pressed against her mouth.

Alanís had seemed to genuinely like him, and had been courteous and appropriately modest in the manner with which she had addressed him. Surprisingly, it had created a warm, prickling sensation deep into Eragon's stomach.

"_If you ever wish to find me, Rider Eragon, I shall be at the soap and lotion shop in the city,"_ Alanís had supplied, and departed with a smile and her fingers brushing her lips, leaving him to nod jerkily that he would indeed take her offer into consideration.

Eragon had been overjoyed. She had been so good-natured, and so lovely. He had never seen eyes as wide as hers, and her mouth as it curled into a smile had caused heat to steal across his abdomen. Eragon could only describe the fall of raven dark hair as beautiful.

_If you ever wish to find me, Rider Eragon, I shall be at the soap and lotion shop in the city._

_I am going to go._ Eragon decided. _I am going to go and see her as soon as I can._

The metal tip of Alanís' hair pin dug into his skin from its little keeping place within the pocket of Eragon's woven tunic, and he resolved to use it as an excuse to visit her. He did not want to seem a besotted idiot when he saw her properly for the first time.

_You are still thinking of her, little one?_ Saphira's voice shattered his musings.

Eragon sighed, and nodded the affirmative. _Yes._

Her great, sapphire eye, the size of a grown man's battle shield, laid it glittering appraisal upon him, and her lips parted to reveal her razor sharp teeth. _Be careful, Eragon. I can sense that you are…attracted to this woman. Remember the choices that you made concerning Arya, and draw wisdom from them. I will not see you hurt at the hands of an elf. _

_Saphira, despite what you may think, I didn't want to seem like a complete fool infront of Arya, _Eragon retorted hotly, his face burning with irritation.

_Do not use that tone with me,_ she thundered. _It is not as though I do not understand your actions; I am your conscience, remember?_

_How can I forget?_

_Allow me to make myself perfectly clear; if you choose to disregard my advice, and end up with a broken heart and pride, I will tear that she-elf apart, and then I shall rip you to shreds for not having the good sense to realise that what I say to you is sensible. _

_I undestand._

_I am not convinced that you do. Keep in mind, little one, that only a fool cannot learn that fire is hot after his hand is burnt._

_I'm not a fool, Saphira. I might be young, but I know when my feelings aren't returned. _

_Good. _

Eragon snorted, and Saphira swiped at his head with her wing.

_Hey!_

-

"Mother."

Islanzadí dropped the scroll that she was examining soundlessly onto her desk, and turned to greet the owner of the deeply feminine voice. A smile drifted onto her lips as she saw Arya, standing tall and proud beside a large armchair at the centre of her husband's office, her office, Islanzadí reminded herself, sadly, and finally sporting an item of clothing that was not her hideous animal skin abomination. She felt an eyebrow twitch as she remembered the garment.

"Daughter," she welcomed affectionately. "Come here and let me embrace you."

Arya's lustrous hair was falling about her shoulders, Islanzadí noted, pleased, trying to not notice how stiffly her child allowed herself to be drawn into her mother's arms.

Gently, she eased Arya away from her, and paused to scan her eyes over the exquisite face, probing, yearning to know what her daughter wanted but was refusing to tell her. A fierce spark of anger erupting above her ribcage startled Islanzadí, and she quietly smothered it with a loving squeeze to Arya's shoulder.

"Sit down, child," Islanzadí bade, gesturing to the armchair that was situated in front of her desk. "You wish to say something to me, yes? Do not be shy, Arya. Tell me."

To Islanzadí's delight, and bemusement, Arya did not permit her stubborness and short temper free reign, as she had during many of their previous encounters, and the queen was secretly overjoyed. Perhaps their relationship would take a turn for the better.

"Mother," Arya began, uncertain. "I shall waste no time with meaningless words."

"Indeed. Continue."

"I wish to return to the border."

_Return to the border?_ "Absolutely not." Islanzadí's voice was firm as she dismissed the notion, and Arya remained still, the only outward sign of her irritation the manner in which her eyes drifted shut and her exhaled breaths became deeper.

"Fortunately," Arya said, sarcastic, "I had predetermined your reaction, and made the necessary arrangements. A messenger is, even now, racing to the location of Captain Ahern's patrol in the south."

"You have organised this without my permission, Arya? Do you truly believe that I shall permit you to spend your time at Du Weldenvarden's Southern Patrol, instead of here, at your proper place?"

"I am an adult, and therefore entitled-"

"You are a princess from the ruling House of this nation! How dare you mock your father's memory in such a way? He would have wished for you to have acted accordingly, and not shirked from you duties as princess of this realm," Islanzadí, interrupted, her tone sharp and furious.

Arya's face hardened. "I have shirked from my duties? Mother, that is hardly something that you can say to me with a clear conscience!"

"We shall speak of this later, Arya. I have no time for such harsh words while there is so much that requires seeing to. I expect you to be present at my quarters when I return. There, we shall have a civilised conversation," Islanzadí said, pulling a delicate hand over her eyes.

The tall she-elf gave no reply, simply stood, saluted in the Elven fashion, and fled the room, the frame of the elaborate door very nearly splintering from the force with which she slammed it closed.

For minutes, Islanzadí merely stayed the way she was, with her elbow against polished cedar wood and her face supported by her hands. Then, unexpectedly, the tears burst forth from her eyes as they would from a broken dam.

-

Arya was livid.

There was no other fitting term for the vice-like, almost painful euphoria that was flooding her mind and tightening like an asp around her solid resolve.

She strode rapidly to her room, carelessly snatched her bow from its carefully carved stand and left Tialdarí Hall without hesitation. It had been a while since Arya had honed her keen archery skills, a long while, and she found that honing her impressively keen archery skills was a like a balm to the sores inflicted upon her by her mother's pigheadedness.

To her gratitude, there was a minimal amount of people present at the well-kept archery grounds, and those who were there had the sense to leave her undisturbed. She drew a slender arrow fletched with precious swan feathers from her quiver, fitted it to her bow and fired it at the target. It landed with a harsh thud in the exact centre of the straw tablet.

She shot arrow after arrow until her quiver was empty, and the sweat was running from her forehead in saline rivulets. She tossed her bow ungraciously to the ground, her hands shaking, and she clenched them into fists, grinding her teeth together in mute rage.

The sound of amused applause alerted Arya to the presence of a second person in her section of the training area.

"Well, Arya, I notice that you are as lethal as ever."

_Who-?_ Arya spun around to face whomever had spoken, her green eyes widening even further when she recognized who it was. "Saeríl?"

He grinned, and Arya felt her stomach flutter in happiness as she rushed over to where he was standing and threw herself into his arms. "Oof," he grunted, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "It is wonderful to see you too, my friend."

She pulled away from him, a frown marring her expression. "Why did you not inform me of your return? I could have been there to greet you."

"I did not wish to worry you about such trivial matters," he answered offhandedly. "Also, I had not heard word of your arrival in Ellesméra until the morning of the day I departed from Ceris."

"You are forgiven, then," she jested, looking as much the female he had he had once known, long ago, as she ever had. A new realisation struck her. "What of Thíro? Is he also in the city?"

"Indeed," Saeríl replied, "my brother has, of course, returned to Ellesméra. You know very well that if I had travelled without him, he would have tracked me down and exacted his revenge."

"I do," Arya commented, laughing, her spirits lifted. "Such good news."

"Yes," he agreed, his long hair a bright halo as it floated on the wind. He leaned against a tree, and crossed his arms over his chest in a stance that Arya had been familiar with since she had been an elfling. "You are angry."

It was not a question, and Arya did not contradict him.

"Another argument with your mother?"

"Yes."

"What have you done this time?"

Arya rounded on him, annoyed. "What have I done? Saeríl, you cannot possibly know what it is like to have Islanzadí as your mother."

"No. But, she is the queen, Arya," he said. "That is no simple task."

"I am well aware that being the monarch of the realm is a difficult position to be in."

"Which is why, dear Arya, you should take into consideration the fact that perhaps her strict conduct and mannerisms towards her only child are the way they are because she loves and cares for you. What was is that you had asked of her?"

"I wanted, I _want_, to be sent to the Southern Border. There is naught for me here, Saeríl. Training with Captain Ahern's warriors is the only thing that shall keep me sane while I stay in Du Weldenvarden," Arya argued, shouldering her bow.

"And the Riders?"

"What of them?"

"Shall they not keep you sane?" Saeríl continued, his eyes looking straight into her own. "It is my understanding that you have become a close companion of theirs."

"It is complicated." _Eragon._ "I may prove to be more of a distraction than a help should I choose to remain in the capital." She turned, unwilling to complete their debate.

"You are wrong, Arya."

Her head swivelled to the side, her mouth pursing into a thin, white line. "Oh?"

"It is not true that you have naught to keep you here," Saeríl said, his voice quiet, as though he feared to be overheard. "You have me."

At his whispered words, Arya's heart leapt into her throat.

-

A hundred frozen needles slicing through her chest jolted Tiranë from her sleep. "Ah!"

"Nice of you to join us," someone murmured dryly, the voice followed almost immediately by the smack of a goblet being set down.

"Er…Eragon?" she croaked, her eyes blearily sliding open. Her blood pounded a rapid tattoo that was inking itself onto her skin with each resounding thud, and her head was on the verge of exploding. She glanced down at her grey tunic, blinking slowly to clear away the remnants of sleep. There was a large damp stain darkening the fabric, and the skin beneath was still tender from the shock of the magically chilled water. "Eragon!"

She hissed from the pain, and gripped her head desperately to stem the onslaught of the daggers of excruciatingly loud sound that were reverberating throughout it. One of her hands was pulled away from where it was tangled in her hair, and something warm was and smooth was nudged into it. "Here," Eragon said. "I figured you'd be drunk after a celebration."

Tiranëpressed the mug of bizarre black liquid against her mouth, a saccharine scent tickling her nostrils, and looked worriedly over at Eragon, who was seated with his legs crossed on the opposite side of her bed. "Go. Drink it; it'll make you feel better, trust me."

"Trust you? Eragon-"

"Tiranë," he abruptly cut her off. "Just shut up and drink it."

Irritated, Tiranë harrumphed a downed the dark tea with her fingertips pinching her nose. "Oh, gods. That's vile."

"I know." He smirked.

"Where did you get it?"

"Orik."

"Not very talkative today, are you?"

"No."

Rolling her eyes exasperatedly, Tirane surveyed the room with her now miraculously focused eyes, fining Turgon gone. Where was he?

_Flying with Saphira. Eragon said that he wanted to speak with you…alone._

Alone? She knew from experience that that did not bode well. Eragon only ever wished to converse privately when he was worried of something terrible happening, or if he was in trouble.

"Eragon, is there something that you want to tell me?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Well then, what is it?" She prodded, curious.

"Do you have a friend named Alaniís?"

_Alanís? What could he possibly want to know about Alanís?_ "Yes, I do. Why?"

"I met her today."

"And?"

"And," he retorted, "I happen to…like her."

Tiranë froze. "Do you mean like as in…attracted?"

He flushed a bright red. "Er…"

Stunned, Tiranë answered, "I shall take that as a 'yes'."

"I was…er… I was wondering if you could, maybe-"

"Put in a good word for you?" Tiranë finished. "Eragon… I'm really not sure that that's a good idea. What I mean is…the trouble with Arya…" she trailed off, leaving the comment haging for emphasis.

"Tiranë, I really like her."

"You've only just met her!"

"I know. But, I feel something whenever I see her. I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't have to. She is beautiful, and sweet, and you think that something might develop from your yearning for her."

"Yes."

"…Fine."

"What?"

"I'll do it," Tiranë agreed. "But, if you hurt her, or decide that Arya was the one 'meant for you', I'll never forgive you, Eragon."

"I won't do anything to hurt her, Tirane," Eragon said. "I just want to get to know her."

"Good. Now, go away. I have to change, thanks be to your imaginative methods of rousing people from sleep," Tiranë said, peeved.

Eragon cocked a brow, and grinned. "Good bye."

"Bye."

He bowed in mock salute, and heard her mutter angrily to herself as she barricaded the bathroom door against intruders.

_Females._

-

I cannot apologise enough for my embarrassingly long hiatus. I truly do hope that this chapter compensates for any annoyance I may have caused, and I promise that the next chapter shall be posted far, far sooner than this one.

artanisofavalon


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